


Lavender and Cookies

by Cielestine_de_Winter



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: AU, BAMF Stiles, Derek has a daughter, Gerard is evil, Hale Royality, Healer Stiles, M/M, No Hale Fire, Stiles Speaks Tree, making stuff up, werewolves are known
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:01:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22428259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cielestine_de_Winter/pseuds/Cielestine_de_Winter
Summary: Stiles Stilinski is willing to do anything to save his father.  Just when he’s at the cusp of success he is betrayed by someone he had trusted all his life.  On the run and scared for his life, he finds that no matter how far he goes, he’ll never  get away from his past.
Relationships: Derek Hale/ Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 75
Kudos: 843





	1. The Betrayal

Stiles Stilinski’s hands shook as he stirred the fragrant herbs together in the dew he collected under the full moon. His head ached from lack of food and sleep as he pushed his belief into the potion he was making. 

This would work. It had to work. He could hear his father’s pained wheezing from bed in the corner of their tiny cottage. Stiles had corresponded with doctors three times his age and experience, exchanged gifts and knowledge with Fae and other learned creatures, had traded everything he could and risked his life to gather the things he couldn’t afford to make this cure. 

It would work. 

Stiles couldn’t lose his father. 

Stiles had lost his beloved mother to a brain illness that turned her from the loving, vibrant woman he knew into a violent nightmare who didn’t even recognize him towards the end. John, his father, was captain of the city watch who had been too busy with his duties to see the bruises and broken limbs until the fateful night he had returned home early and found her holding a knife to their 10 year old son’s throat, spewing vile words of hate and malice. He watched in frozen horror as her mind cleared for the last time. In the space of those few seconds she elected to end her life rather than put her child at risk again. 

John was never the same. 

That was the night Stiles stopped being a child and started taking care of his father, swearing to never let anything take his remaining parent away from him. He worked tirelessly to keep their tiny home clean and in order. He cooked healthy meals and went without when times were lean. John’s uniforms were always washed and well mended, even as Stiles’s clothes were barely better than rags. 

It wasn’t that John didn’t love Stiles; it was just Claudia was the love of his life, his soulmate. Without her, he became lost and could only focus on what he knew, his job. He didn’t know the words to say to the hurting son, old beyond his years. So he let it happen. 

The door to the cottage slammed open and Scott McCall ran in. “I need that cure.” 

Stiles looked up at his only friend. “What?” He asked, his mind dull from exhaustion. 

“Allison’s grandfather is sick! If we cure him, she’ll finally notice me!” Scott said looking at the pot Stiles was stirring with crazed eyes. 

“No!” Stiles said shaking his head. “I only have enough for my dad. Once he’s cured, we can get the ingredients and make another batch. Then you can give some to Allison. But this batch is for dad.” 

Scott made a strangled sound. “Stiles! It’s Allison’s grandfather!” 

Stiles’s snorted and carefully started decanting the potion into a glass vial. “And he’s a terrible person. Seriously Scott. My dad’s not going to make it to the next full moon. He needs this now. Gerard can wait.” 

“Stiles! This is my chance! I love her!” 

“She doesn’t even know who you are!” Stiles shouted. He took a calming breath. “Look, you’re my brother. I’ll help you. You know I’ll help you even though I despise Gerard. But my dad first, okay?” 

Scott’s eyes scoured the room looking for a answer. “Stiles!” He whined. 

“No!” Stiles put the potion down and went to get some water for his father. He knew his dad would need something with which to wash the potion down. When he looked back up, Scott was in from of him holding the mortar he and his mother had given Stiles on his 13th birthday. 

“I’m sorry,” Scott said before hitting Stiles on the head. Stiles went down hard, his temple bleeding. Scott carefully sealed the vial and ran out the door with it. 

  
  


The next day Melissa McCall was holding John’s hand as Stiles frantically mixed up another batch of a potion that had been keeping John stable. It had been losing its potency but Stiles prayed that would be enough to tie him over until the next full moon. His head swam from both his headache and the loss of blood, but he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t give up hope. 

John’s coughing grew worse. 

“Stiles,” Melissa said softly. 

Stiles steeled himself before he turned around. 

John was deathly pale. Melissa held up a rag that was spotted with blood. Stiles’s stomach twisted. Blood was bad. Really, really bad. “Mel,” his voice cracked. “Melissa.” He said again. “I need some mint. Please. Can you…” 

Melissa stood up and put her hand on Stiles’s shaking shoulder. She had found him that morning, crying and almost incoherent, and was able to pull what had happened from him. She reacted in anger toward her son, but Stiles beg her to help him instead. They could talk to Scott later; his father was priority Stiles said, tears falling down his blood stained face. Melissa marveled at his heart and agreed. Scott could be dealt with later. 

“I’ll be back as soon as possible.” 

“I don’t have…” 

Melissa smiled through her tears. “Everyone in town will be happy to give you what you need, Stiles. Payback for all the times you’ve helped them.” 

Stiles nodded and turned back to what he was doing. Melissa kissed his cheek and quickly walked out the door. 

Chop. Stir. 

“Stiles.” 

Stiles’s tears flowed freely at how weak his father’s voice was. 

“Yea, dad?” He said with a false cheer. 

“Come here.” 

Stiles’s hands stilled. He swallowed over the lump in his throat and wiped his hands on a rag. He grabbed a glass of water. “Yea, pops?” He said walking over to the bed. He helped his dad take a sip of water. 

John reached up with a weak hand. Stiles quickly put the water down and took the hand in both his. “You’re hurt.” 

Stiles smiled. “You know me, always clumsy.” He brought his father’s cold hand to his cheek. 

“Love you,” he father whispered. 

“I love you,” Stiles said, kissing his dad’s hand. “Don’t leave me, please.” 

“Son, I’ve…” 

The door was suddenly kicked in, silencing John’s words. 

Four brawny men and Scott McCall quickly stepped in, slamming the door behind them. Stiles stood, putting himself between his father and the unwelcome, heavily armed guests. 

“Is that him?” A man Stiles quickly recognized as Gerard Argent asked. 

“Yes,” Scott mumbled, looking unsure. 

Gerard smiled unpleasantly. “You’re just a child.” 

“He’s 15, like me.” Scott said quickly. 

Gerard snorted. 

“What do you want?” Stiles said, gritting his teeth. 

“Young Scott here said you made the potion that cured me,” Gerard said looking around the room. “I’ve come to offer you a job.” 

Stiles glanced at Scott who was pleading with his eyes. 

“All the doctors told me I wasn’t going to make it through the night. My family,” he said spitting out the word as though it was a curse, “even called for a priest. Imagine my delight when this boy came through with something that worked. I feel better now than I did when I was in my twenties. I can get rich off that cure; selling it to the highest bidder.” 

Stiles had heard enough. “I’m glad you’re feeling better but I’m not interested in a job working with you. Now, I need to…” 

John started coughing. Stiles quickly turned around and helped ease his father through his coughing fit, gently wiping the blood from his lips and easing him back down. “Stiles,” John whispered. 

“Sh, dad,” Stiles said soothingly. “I’m almost done with your medicine. Why don’t you rest?” 

John looked worried. 

Stiles flashed what he hoped was a reassuring smile. He turned back around and saw Gerard still grinning at him. “I said no. Please go.” 

“I never said anything about working with me,” Gerard said. He turned to his men. “Take him back to the house. He’ll change his mind with the right pressure. And if that doesn’t work we can try that old medal again.” 

Stiles went cold. “But… my dad,” he said as the men stepped forward. 

“I don’t see anyone here but a dead man and my new slave,” Gerard sneered. He turned to Scott. “Kill him.” 

Scott looked sick. “But…” 

“If you are going to be one of my men, you’ll have to learn to follow my orders,” Gerard said with mock patience. “Kill him.” 

Scott slowly drew out the short sword John had gifted him on his birthday. It shook in his hand. He took a small step toward Stiles and his dad. 

“Scott,” Stiles whispered in shock. 

“Oh for god sakes,” Gerard jumped forward and shoved Stiles out of the way. He grabbed Scott’s sword hand and plunged the sword into John’s chest until his and Scott’s hands were pressed against John’s nightshirt. Blood quickly soaked the white material staining their skin. Gerard grimaced and held up his dripping hand. He wiped it callously on Scott’s white face and turned to his men. “Grab the boy before anyone notices and bring him to the house. Take pains not to break anything that won’t heal,” he smirked, “eventually.” With that he turned and walked out the door. 

One of the men snorted and grabbed Stiles’s arm, yanking him up. He started dragging Stiles away from his father when suddenly Stiles stopped moving. “No.” 

The three men and Scott looked at Stiles in various degrees of surprise and amusement. 

“No,” Stiles repeated. His warm brown eyes drained of color and flashed a cold violet. The man holding his arm suddenly screamed and disintegrated into dust that blew away in an icy wind that kicked up inside the house. Glass, plants, rags, and furniture started flying through the house, crashing into walls and people. The rug and bedding caught on fire that quickly spread. 

The men and Scott stared in fear as Stiles looked on, detached, the center of the storm. 

“No.” Stiles said again. 

The table over turned and the glass bottles holding his potion ingredients shattered. The man closest to the door caught on fire and started screaming, falling to the ground trying to put it out but the flames ran up his beard, into his hair like dry grass after a drought. The other man fell to his knees and started praying. 

“Stiles,” Scott croaked. 

Stiles finally turned to him, his eyes flickering back to their normal warm amber. They took in the blood on Scott’s face and hands. Stiles looked around his cottage in horror, then rested his eyes on his dad. 

“Stiles.” 

Stiles tore his eyes from his father’s body and looked at Scott again. 

“Run. Stiles. Run.” 

Stiles ran. 


	2. The Little Princess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five years later, Stiles answer’s Cora’s call for help and meets her family.

Prince Derek looked down at his only daughter and longed to tear off the heavy leather gloves that prevent him from touching her. He hated the heavy dried flower filled mask he was forced to wear that blocked her scent from his werewolf senses. Through the dark shadows and the thick cloud of noxious smoke and gauze separating them, he could see her tiny, pale face flushed with the burning fever roasting her from within. 

Three months ago, Princess Mable was running around the garden happily with his mother, Queen Talia. Three months ago, she hadn’t been sick a day in her short three year life. Now every breath she took was pained. Derek’s family, the ruling family of Beacon had spared no expense, made use of all diplomatic channels, even created new alliances to find a cure for their little princess only to be denied. The little princess withered away more and more every day, leaving Derek a shell of his former self and the well loved royal family heart broken. 

Derek’s wife, Paige had died in his arms after giving birth to their precious little girl. His grief at her loss was tempered by the all encompassing love that had filled him the first time he held his daughter. The idea of trying to exist without her was unthinkable. 

The door opened, causing the team of doctors who were currently burning a fresh batch of bitter herbs to titter uneasily. Derek didn’t even lift his eyes from his daughter to see who had arrived. “Cora wants to see you,” one of his guards, Isaac, whispered through his mask. 

Derek didn’t bother to respond. He wasn’t going to leave his daughter. Not when any breath could be her last. 

Isaac waited. 

The doctors continued burning the smudge. They were the 4th team who had come at his family’s bidding. They had come three weeks ago, promising a cure. Derek hadn’t seen any improvement. Personally, he thought they were just getting her ready for burial if the herbs they were burning were any indication. 

The door opened again and Derek recognized his sister’s familiar footsteps along side someone else’s. Cora walked up next to him, her mask in place. She put her gloved hand on his shoulder. “Derek. This is the guy I was telling you about. I found him.” 

The man Cora was referring to was looking around the dark room, the mask and gloves making it hard to get a gage on what he looked like. Cora had mentioned he was a wandering herbologist whom she had met on her travels. She said he was a miracle worker. Derek didn’t believe in miracles anymore. 

“Please. Let’s give him a try. Maybe he can help.” 

The lead doctor, whom Derek especially despised, glided over and motioned for Cora to quiet down. Cora stiffened. No one told Her Highness Princess Cora to quiet down. 

Apparently that was something the person standing next to her knew because before anyone could stop him, he took off his mask and flung it on the ground. “Yea, how about no?” The heavy gloves were next to follow the mask to the floor. “Okay, look, how about you and your crazy friends pack your bags and get the hell out of here? You’re obvious just burning shit to smoke everyone out of here and wasting everyone’s time. I think you can leave now.” 

Everyone looked at the man in shock. “Well, get going.” He said making shoo-ing motions. The man sighed. “Cora? Can you get them to leave?” He asked then grabbed the gauze curtain and tore it off the tiny bed. 

Derek shot up to stop him. The man quickly turned. “You’re the dad, right?” He said pulling Derek’s heavy gloves off. 

Derek nodded as the man pushed the mask off his face. 

“Good. Lose the shirt.” The man turned to Isaac who stared at him. “Can you open the windows and let in some light? We have to air this place out, like yesterday!” He turned back to the princess. “Hello, baby girl,” he cooed. “You’re beautiful. We’ll get you right as rain in no time.” He turned back to Derek. “The shirt.” 

Derek just blinked. 

The man just rolled his expressive eyes. “Cora?” 

“Come on, big brother, get going. Boyd, Erica, get these idiots out of here.” Boyd and Erica wasted no time tearing off the hated masks and gloves and smiled unpleasantly at the shocked doctors. “Isaac, you get that window, I’ll get this one. Derek. Hey, Derek! The shirt!” 

Derek blinked and started undoing his buttons as he watched the strange man go to one of the other windows, snap open the curtains and throw it open, letting in the first light and fresh air in two months. He walked back and took a good look at the princess. “Ugh, when was the last time they let you bathe this poor lady!” He turned to Derek. “Pick her up and cradle her over your heart so she can hear your heartbeat. She needs skin on skin contact. Werewolves are tactile and I’m sure she’s touch starved by now.” He watched as Derek gently leaned over and pick up his little girl. If he saw the tears in Derek’s eyes he didn’t mention it. 

“Isaac,” the man said walking over and opening another curtain and window. “Can you see about getting a bath set up. Somewhere else,” he said wrinkling his nose. “And see if you can get some people to really give this room a scrub down. We need to get that smell out of here. I’m surprised you guys haven’t gone out of your mind from the smell!” He walked back over to the bed and sniffed it. “And a new bed. This one needs to be burned or something.” He turned back to Derek who was cradling his daughter and mutely rocking her. 

“I know this is strange, but I need you to be the one who bathes her. And talk to her. Sing to her, whatever. She needs to smell you, hear you, and feel you. It will ground her. Anchor her. Make sense?” 

Derek nodded. “Yes,” he said clearing his voice, rusty from his long silence. The tiny princess moved in his arms, surprising him. Derek’s eyes flooded as he looked down. “Mable? Baby girl?” He said turning away. He started talking softly to her. 

The man turned to Cora. “Okay, Cora, show me the kitchen. You think you might have some rabbits around here somewhere?” 

“If we don’t, I’m sure I can catch you some,” Cora smiled as she lead him away. 

  
  


Hours later Queen Talia left her son’s room with the first smile on her face in months. Princess Mable’s fever had broke, leaving her face only slightly pale and so much healthier looking. Derek had been able to feed her some of the broth the man had made and now, both her son and granddaughter were resting peacefully on her son’s bed. 

A soft noise made her pause. Curious, she followed the noise to her granddaughter’s room and found the man on his knees scrubbing the floor. 

Queen Talia watched him for a few minutes. The room had been stripped of everything. Everything had been scrubbed meticulously, although perhaps not to the strange man’s standards. The man wiped his forehead on his sleeve and continued scrubbing. 

“Late night,” the queen observed deciding to step in. 

The man jumped and looked up. “Um, yea.” 

“I thought that was done.” 

The man looked embarrassed. “It was, but uh, I can still kind of smell the myrrh they burnt and if I can smell it, the little girl will and I don’t want her to, you know, associate that smell with her room.” 

Talia sniffed the room. “I can only smell the faint scent of lavender.” 

The man looked relieved. “Yea, I had some lavender with me, so I’ve been scrubbing the walls and floor with it, hoping it would soak in. Lavender relaxes and I thought maybe it would be a nicer smell then, you know…” He jumped up. “Oh gods! You’re the grandmother. I’m so sorry! Did I over step?! Do you hate lavender? I can stop! I can scrub it down with water if…” 

Talia laughed. “No, no, it’s fine. Perfect, in fact. I love the smell of lavender.” She walked further into the room. “We haven’t been introduced. I’m Talia.” 

The man held out his hand then quickly pulled it back. “I’m sorry, I’m gross. Not gross. Stiles. I’m Stiles.” 

Talia laughed again, thoroughly charmed. “Cora’s told us a lot about you.” 

Stiles cringed. “Hopefully she found something good to say.” 

“Only wonderful things,” Talia assured him. 

Stiles fidgeted for a second. “Well, um. I’ll just ah, finish up here and be on my way then. I’ve left instructions with Cora so the little girl should be good in a few days, so ah, yea.” 

“We haven’t discussed payment.” 

Stiles cocked his head. “Payment for what? I didn’t do anything.” 

“You saved my granddaughter.” 

“I just stopped those stupid money hungry parasites from making a bad situation worse,” Stiles snorted. “What they were doing makes me sick, taking advantage of you and your family like that just to fatten their purses! I’ve seen enough of them and their ilk to last a lifetime and it’s my pleasure to get rid of them for you. I just hope this stunt they pulled ruins their reputation enough so they can’t dupe the next terrified parent or spouse who needs help. Seriously, how can people be so heartless?!” He huffed turning to get back to scrubbing the floor. 

“Surely there is some way we can repay you,” Talia said, interrupting his rant. 

Stiles stopped for a second and turned back to her. “Actually.” He paused and scratched behind his ear. “There is something. I’ve been thinking about what Cora’s told me, about how the little girl got sick. Something doesn’t add up. Perfectly healthy children, especially werewolf children don’t just fall ill, you know?” Stiles waved his hands and paced the floor. “I mean, from what Cora’s told me of her symptoms, I get why she didn’t wake up. Those people were idiots by separating her from her dad and not letting anyone touch her. Keeping her senses muted would have kept her from healing properly.” Stiles pulled on his hair. “Anyone with a modicum of knowledge of werewolf lore would know that would be the worst course of treatment for a young pup, which leads me down a completely different train of thought as to why all the doctors you engaged prescribed the same treatment, but I’d need to have access to financial records and rumor mills that I’d have no chance at…” Stiles took a breath and stopped. “I’m sorry. I’ve been traveling hard to get here since Cora’s letter reached me last week and my mind’s all over the place right now. But if you’re set on repaying me, you’ll give me access to your garden, even if it’s for an hour. I just want to take a look around.” 

Talia stood tall, as though she was cut from stone. Here was this young man, not in her home more than 6 hours, voicing suspicions echoing in her head for months that she had been too afraid to voice, even to her own husband. She listened to the steady beat of his honest heart and studied the careworn lines of his concerned face. Looking into the young man’s amber eyes, she knew her trust would not be misplaced in him. “I will grant you access to the gardens.” 

“Yes!” Stiles smiled and did a little dance. 

“On two conditions,” she continued. 

Stiles stilled, his face showing traces of fear. Talia paused, wondering what put that fear in him. “One, you allow us to host you tonight. It’s already late and as you’ve said, you’ve traveled long to get here.” Stiles’s eyes widen in surprise. “The second is you have breakfast with me and my family tomorrow morning. The least we can do is make sure you have a good meal before you leave,” she said smiling warmly. 

Stiles flushed and looked at himself, obviously embarrassed at his state of dress. Talia took in his threadbare clothes that were tattered at the hems and patched at the knees and elbows. “You’re perfect. If you’ve spent any time with Cora, you know we don’t put much stock in formality.” 

Stiles smiled shyly. “Thank you. I accept your conditions.” 

“Come, let me show you your room.” 

Stiles looked at the floor. 

“Come along, Stiles. You need your sleep if you’re going to be able to keep up with Cora tomorrow at breakfast. I’ll have someone come by and finish up for you.” Talia said holding her hand out to him. 

Stiles took a tentative step forward and Talia put her hand on his shoulder. She frowned a little when she felt how thin he was. The mother in her worried as her eyes took in how slim he actually was. He must not have access to regular meals, she mused. “How did you meet my daughter,” she asked lightly leading him down the hall. 

Stiles laughed. “A party of slave traders who had shot her full of mistletoe arrows thought she’d be too sick to stop them.” 

Talia’s steps faltered. That was not the story Cora told. “Mistletoe is dangerous,” she said lightly, already thinking of how she was going to ream out her risk taking daughter. 

“Cora’s tough. We stopped the slave traders, let the people go back to their homes, and then we spent a week in a cave. It was fine,” he said dismissively. “I made sure to give her the recipe for an antidote to mistletoe to keep with her. She promised to keep on her at all times, so I think we’re good.” 

Talia stopped at a door and looked at him. “It seems I owe you for saving the lives of two of the people I love,” she said smiling gently. 

“You are an amazing woman who protects her people,” Stiles said shaking his head. “You don’t owe me anything.” 

Talia leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead. “Sleep well, Stiles.” She smiled and left him gaping at her as she walked to her room.


	3. The Scariest Person in the World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breakfast with the Royal family is going to be a disaster of epic proportions, Stiles thinks.

The next morning found Stiles nervously trying to will his damp clothes to dry a little faster and to be less wrinkled and shabby. It was one thing to be told at night and in the dark that his clothes were fine. It was a completely other thing to be standing in front of an ornate mirror after sleeping on a plush, heavenly bed and taking a luxurious hot bath (and finally able to wash using real soap which was absolutely orgasmic). Stiles ran his hand nervously through his hair for the millionth time and wondered if he could just sneak out to the garden and be gone before the Queen noticed. 

Queen Talia couldn’t possibly want him at her table. 

Sure, he had eaten rabbits with Cora in a cave with his hands wearing vomit and blood stained clothes. But sitting at the table with Her Majesty the Queen, Alpha Talia Hale of Beacon; her husband, the Prince Consort and Admiral of the Navy, Andrew Hale; the Royal Princess and Heir to the Throne, Alpha in Waiting Laura Hale; and His August Highness, the First True Alpha in a Millennium, Defender of the Land, Derek Hale… need Stiles go on? 

Yes. Yes, he could, because even Cora had titles. Oh so many titles. So many big important titles. And who in the hell even knew what family meant to Talia. Shit! Should he have even used her given name? Should he have bowed? Groveled? 

Oh gods, Stiles paled. Did he actually tell Derek Hale, the wolf who single handedly defeated the Alpha Pack in five to one combat, to take off his shirt?! 

Maybe he should just throw himself out the window. 

Yea, that sounded like a great plan. 

Before he could turn to the window, his door opened and a pattering of little feet echoed through his ginormous room. The little girl from the day before was giggling and wrapping her arms around his legs. Stiles’s freak out couldn’t last in the face of the little girl’s unrestrained joy. She rubbed her face on his legs then held her arms up in the universal sign that she wanted to be picked up. 

“Hey, baby girl!” Stiles said easily picking her up. She was wearing an adorable pink gingham dress with a white ruffled apron. On the pocket of the apron was a small embroidered heart. Stiles felt his heart burst from the cuteness. “What are you doing out of bed? You should be resting for at least another day.” He blushed as she eagerly scent marked him. He was pleased to see her cheeks were rosy with good health. 

“Mable!” A deep voice called anxiously. Stiles just had enough time to look up to see Derek Hale run in. 

Derek skidded to a stop and stared. 

Stiles stared back. 

In the light of day, Derek Hale was… gorgeous. 

Drop dead, no holds barred, breathtakingly gorgeous. 

Even with his terrible bedhead that no way detracted from his sun kissed well defined chest. 

That was bare. 

Stiles could write sonnets about that chest. 

And those arms. 

And that face. 

And did he mention the guy was gorgeous? 

The man’s perfect nose flared as though he was trying to pick up Stiles’s scent as his brilliant hazel eyes seemed to memorize him. 

The little girl in Stiles’s arms giggled and continued to aggressively scent mark him. 

“Der! Did you find…. Oh! There you are, you little munchkin!” Another example of perfection walked through the door. Like the little girl, the woman’s hair was a rich brown that hung in perfect curls. Her dress was a soft blue that brought out the warmth and mischief in her large eyes. The woman took one look at Stiles, then gave her brother the side eye. “Oh goodness, you’re a cutie!” She said walking over to Stiles and the girl. “I was wondering where mom put you.” She held her hands out. 

The girl grabbed on to Stiles with a strangle hold and buried her face in his neck. 

“Ah,” Stiles choked. “Lighten the grip a little, baby girl.” 

The girl only tighten her grip until the lady stepped back. “Mine, mine, mine, mine,” she sang. 

The woman laughed. “Well, I guess, you’re carrying her down to breakfast then. I’m Laura, by the way. I’ll show you the way,” she said motioning for Stiles to follow her. She glanced at her brother. “Hey, Der, you planning on getting dressed any time soon?” 

Derek finally blinked. 

“Don’t mind him,” Laura said grandly taking Stiles by the elbow. “He’s not a morning person.” 

“Morning person,” Cora yawned from where she was in the hall. “He’s barely house trained.” She glanced at her niece who was still proclaiming “mine” into Stiles’s neck as they walked down the hall. “It’s nice to see the princess is feeling better. You should feel honored, she never lets anyone outside of family pick her up. She’s not biting you, is she?” 

“Does she do that?” Stiles asked, feeling as though his morning had taken a bit of a surreal edge to it. He was relieved to see Cora was wearing her familiar pants and leather shirt. 

Laura and Cora laughed. “Just kidding. She’s not going to bite you,” Cora said. “Much.” 

“Derek on the other hand,” Laura said with a twinkle in her eye. 

Cora turned to her. “Really?!” 

“I’m surprised he isn’t rubbing up on him singing ‘mine’ too.” 

Stiles wasn’t sure what they were talking about, but he was pretty sure his face couldn’t be any more red. “I hate you both,” he decided playfully. 

Laura and Cora both laughed. 

“It so good to hear laughter again,” Talia observed from her place at the head of the large table. Laura and Cora kissed hers and their father’s cheeks before sitting across the table. 

Stiles stood awkwardly wondering if he should bow, trying very hard to loosen the princess’s death grip on his neck. 

Talia took Mable’s proud proclamation of “Mine” with a raised eyebrow and motioned to a seat next to her. “Good Morning Stiles, I trust you slept well.” She stood as if to help him with the little princess, but Stiles waved her back down. 

Stiles managed to distract the little princess with some cut strawberries and put her in the small chair between his and an empty chair. The little girl considered a strawberry and offered it to him. “You?” She offered. 

Stiles let her feed him the strawberry then put some cut fruit on a small plate in front of her. “You,” he said agreeably. 

The little princess nodded and turned her attention to the fruit. 

“Yes, I did,” Stiles said, relieved the little girl’s attention was elsewhere. “Thank you.” He looked around the table and spied a small cup. He reached over and poured a tiny bit of milk in the cup and helped the little girl take a sip. 

“Milk, milk, milk,” the girl sang. “Thank you.” 

“You are welcome,” he smiled. “Oatmeal or pancakes?” 

“Bacon!” 

“Is that how you ask for it?” Derek said walking in swiftly and giving her a kiss on the cheek before going and giving his mom and dad a kiss. He was dressed in a simple, but pristine white shirt and a pair of dark pants that did things to his amazing ass. 

Not that Stiles was looking. 

Stiles flushed and turned back to his empty plate. He wondered if he could just hide under the table until everyone left the room. 

“Daddy!” The little girl giggled. She grabbed Stiles with her fruit covered hand. “Mine!” She smiled happily. 

“You may have to share him with the rest of us, baby girl,” Laura said winking at her. 

Stiles glanced under the table again. 

“Bacon, please,” the little girl said earnestly looking at Stiles. Stiles instantly reached out, but Derek beat him to it. 

“No, you eat. I’ll get it. You’re the guest,” Derek said making eye contact with him that was only broken when Cora started making gagging noises. 

“So what does everyone have planned for today?” Andrew asked. 

“I have some treaties to review this afternoon. A few of the merchant families are getting anxious to meet with us again to renegotiate the trade routes. But this morning I can make time. Mable, do you want to do art with Bam this morning?” Talia asked her granddaughter. 

Mable’s eyes left the bacon and cut up pancakes on her plate as she nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, Bam!” 

“Do you want to decorate cookies with me and Betsy in the kitchen after lunch?” Laura asked quickly. “You can give them out in town on our walk tonight with daddy.” 

“With Mine?” She said looking at Stiles. 

There was a pregnant pause as Stiles blinked at her. “Are you talking about me?” 

“Mine,” the little girl said nodding her head adorably. 

“Um,” Stiles looked around for help and saw from the poorly hidden smiles from everyone but Derek that he was on his own. He turned to the little girl. “My name is Stiles.” 

The little girl nodded seriously. “Mine.” 

“No, Stiles.” 

“Mine.” 

“Stiles.” 

“Mine.” 

Stiles lean forward. “Stiles,” he said slowly. 

The little girl leaned forward, kissed his cheek, leaving a shiny streak of syrup and said, “Mine,” in a very decisive way before turning back to her breakfast. 

Laura’s coffee shot out of her nose as she laughed. She quickly excused herself from the table as the others hid their laughter in their napkins. 

Stiles looked over at Derek who was staring at him with a blank look. 

“Well, then,” Talia said as though it was decided. “Mine, I mean, Stiles, had wanted to take a walk through the gardens this morning. Derek, would you mind accompanying him? It’s a lovely day for it.” She touched her napkin to the corners of her mouth and turned to Stiles. “He will be able to answer any questions you had about what we discussed last night.” 

“Speaking of which, I have some things I need to look into,” Andrew said standing up. “It will take me a few hours to pull everything together. Why don’t you stop by my study after the cookie walk?” He asked looking at Stiles. Stiles was surprised, but nodded his head. “Welcome to the family, Mine,” he said as he patted Stiles on the shoulder before exiting the room. 

Cora snorted and stood up. “I’m going to help dad. You morons stay out of trouble.” She said following her father. 

“Come on, Mable Love, Bam just got some special paint for you,” she said sweeping her granddaughter up leaving Derek and Stiles alone in the dining room. 

Stiles stared at his plate for a minute before sneaking a glance at Derek who was staring at his plate. Not moving. Stiles wasn’t even sure if he was breathing. 

The silence was deafening. 

Finally Derek picked up his fork. “You should, um eat something.” 

Stiles blushed. “Yea.” 

They sat there. Stiles staring at his empty plate and Derek clutching his fork for another few minutes before Stiles’s stomach made a noise. 

Stiles wondered if you could die of embarrassment. 

Derek made a tiny noise. Stiles glanced over and saw Derek was struggling to smother a smile. Derek finally put his fork down and turned to him. “I’m sorry,” he said in a rush of words. “My family’s…” 

“Terrifying!” Stiles exclaimed turning to him. “I think they laughed at me all the way through breakfast!” 

“To be honest, I think they were making more fun of me,” Derek replied honestly. 

“Your mom practically blackmailed me into staying for breakfast and your sister used your adorable baby into forcing me into staying until this evening!” 

“You were going to leave?” Derek said tilting his head as he reached over and started piling pancakes on Stiles’s plate. 

“Well, yea,” Stiles shrugged watching him. “I mean, your daughter’s perfectly fine. You don’t need me anymore.” 

“You obviously don’t have sisters,” Derek observed lightly. “They’re like harpies. Now that they have their claws in you, they aren’t going to let you go easily. Bacon, sausage or both?” 

“Oh, there’s sausage?” Stiles leaned forward to take a better look at the offerings on the table. 

Derek put some of both on Stiles’s overloaded plate before sitting back down. “Please stay, even if it’s until we get Mable to bed tonight. Otherwise she’ll be impossible at bedtime.” 

Stiles took a bite of his pancakes and hummed. “These are amazing.” 

“If you think these are amazing, wait until you try her cookies,” Derek slathered his pancakes with syrup. “Betsy and her family own a bakery in town. Their cakes are legendary.” 

“Hmmmm,” Stiles closed his eyes and enjoyed the religious experience that was his breakfast. Derek hid his smile behind his cup of coffee. “How is this bacon real!?” Stiles gasped grabbing the last piece from the plate. 

“The Pork Co-op,” Derek grinned proudly. “They’ve been experimenting for years on different feeds and grasses. Maybe for dinner we can pick up a honey ham.” 

Stiles turned to him, his eyes wide. “Honey ham?” 

“Ham coated in brown sugar and honey. Baked slowly so the juices are locked in. It’s pretty good. But if you stay tomorrow, we might be able to get a roast from Letterby’s just outside of town. Jill puts this seasoning on it that makes it so tender and just the right salty sweet that it just melts in your mouth. Put it with the new potatoes that are in season now and you got heaven on a plate. We usually invite the extended family to those dinners so you have to be quick or you’ll be left with the leavings,” he teased. 

“I see your sisters aren’t the only ones who are well versed in blackmail,” Stiles observed dryly. 

Derek chuckled. “I’m not saying you have to stay. I’m just saying if you stay, there will be a few good meals for you. My family’s not really big on hosting ornate banquets or state dinners, but we do love throwing a good sit down meal with family and friends.” His smile dimmed slightly. “We haven’t had the opportunity to have one in a while. It would be good to see everyone.” 

“Who do you invite?” Stiles asked curiously. 

“The people who work here and their families. Some of the shopkeepers in town. My family used to be a lot more formal, so we have a big banquet hall that can fit about 200. Usually people bring something too, so it kind of turns into a potluck.” 

“Is it safe?” Stiles asked bluntly. 

Derek frowned. “What do you mean, is it safe?” 

“Do you have problems with being poisoned?” 

“We’re werewolves,” Derek pointed out with a frown. “We would know if something made a mistake with their recipe or if their dish turned.” 

Stiles stopped eating and put his fork down. He turned to Derek. “What do you think happened to your daughter?” 

“I think she got sick,” Derek answered slowly. “Why? What do you think happened to Mable?” 

“I don’t know what happened, but I’d like to find out,” Stiles evaded. He watched as complicated emotions flew across Derek’s expressive hazel eyes. 

“You think she was poisoned,” he said finally. 

“There’s a possibility she was poisoned,” Stiles clarified. “I’d like to rule it out before I leave.” 

“The garden?” 

“It’s the most likely place.” 

Derek lifted his fork to his mouth but put it back down. 

Stiles watched him. He glanced at his half full plate a little regretfully. Meals like that were rare, but he could understand Derek’s concern. He stood up. “Ready to go?” 

Derek’s face was impassive as he stood up. “Okay.” He led Stiles through the halls of the palace in silence. 

“I could be wrong,” Stiles said softly. 

“I hope you are,” Derek’s voice was clipped, so different from their easy banter from before. 

Stiles stomach soured. He hadn’t meant to anger the wolf, he just wanted to make sure the little girl was safe. This family was so carefree and open hearted, so unlike anyone he had ever met. It made him want to protect them. Wrap them all in a blanket and keep them safe. Even Cora with her sarcasm and hard edges had a bit of innocence about her that was hard to not want to protect. 

Derek threw open a set of double doors leading out to a massive garden. As Stiles stood in the doorway taking a deep breath, something tickled the edge of his awareness. Something old, powerful, and warmly inviting. It caught him off guard and made him stumble as he walked past Derek to the center of the garden. 

In the middle of the garden was a massive tree. The verdant green branches reached high into the sky providing cooling shade from the warm summer sun. The strong roots of the tree were covered in velvet moss forming soft indentations that invited Stiles to lie down and nap. The tree’s aura embraced him like a mother welcoming him home. He reached out a hand and caressed the smooth bark and his mind was flooded by a torrent of joyous memories. These Hales and the Hales who came before playing under her branches, seeking protection and comfort from her. Her roots ran deep into the foundations of their kingdom, the unknown magical guardian who provided stability to their heritage. 

The Nemeton eagerly shared her knowledge and her love with Stiles; just as open hearted as the family who open their arms to him. The pain and hurt Stiles had known since the onset of his mother’s illness eased a little as his tears tickled his cheeks. He closed his eyes and let it wash over him. 

  
  


“What do you mean he just fell over?!” Cora shrieked. “And why is he crying!?! Stiles does not just cry! I’ve picked arrows out of the guy and he makes a joke about it! What did you say to him?” 

“I didn’t say anything to him!” Derek denied. “He just walked over here, touched the tree and passed out!” 

“Derek Sebastián Hale,” Talia scolded. “If you’ve hurt our guest I will put you on stable duty until you’re 50!” 

“Mom! I didn’t do anything!” Derek protested. 

“Maybe it’s a plant thing?” Laura added. 

“Mine?” Stiles felt a small hand touching his face. 

“A plant thing?” Cora shouted. “Does this look like a plant thing to you?” 

Stiles was waking up a little more. The hum of contentment was quickly burning off as a little body nestled into his arms. 

“I don’t know. Maybe he has a weird plant fetish.” 

“Laura!” Three voices scolded above him. 

“Mine, mine, mine,” tickled his ear accompanied by kisses on his cheek. 

“I hate you all,” Stiles said opening his eyes. “Except the baby girl. She can stay,” he said hugging her. She giggled and smothered him with more kisses. 

“Okay, everyone step back,” Andrew commanded. “Give him a little air.” 

Stiles noticed he was lying on his back with his head in Derek’s lap. Mable was cuddled in his arms. Laura, Talia, Cora, and Andrew were peering down at him anxiously. The three guards from yesterday were standing to the side looking at him curiously. “Well, this is mortifying. Come on, baby girl, let me up.” Stiles said sitting up. 

Mable pouted but positioned herself in his lap. She grabbed his arms and wrapped them around herself. “Mine,” she proudly announced to everyone. 

“Are you okay? Did you hit your head?” Talia fussed. 

“I’m fine,” Stiles said wiping his face. He took a breath. “Okay, so it turns out the Nemeton here was excited to meet me a got a little too enthusiastic in her greeting.” 

“You talk to trees,” Cora snorted. “You’re such a weirdo.” 

“Cora!” Talia chastised. 

“No, no, it is weird. I’ve never talked to a tree before. Especially not a magic tree.” Stiles shook his head as if to clear it. “Anyways, our resident sentient magic tree really loves you all and has been keeping watch over you. She thinks something going on.” Stiles scrunched up his face. “Time doesn’t move the same way for her like it does for us, but at some time there were these two… people, maybe? One of them might have been a wolf, I think, but the other was a nasty darach who weakened her. Then there two other people who got busy with each other under her, distracting her for a long time which was good, I think? But then some bad people gained access into the country but that was okay because they left, but they left something with someone that polluted her garden? I don’t know. She wasn’t very specific. But she did tell me to look where there was a fire? Is any of this ringing any bells?” He said looking around. 

Cora looked confused. “Are you sure you didn’t hit your head?” 

Laura rolled her eyes. 

Talia and Andrew were holding hands and blushing. 

“Mine.” Mable said kissing him. 

“What’s a darach?” Derek asked. 

“A darach is an evil druid. Someone who takes the power from the earth and twists it for their own means,” Stiles said with a shrug. “Does that sound familiar?” 

Blank faces all around. 

“Do you ah, have a name, a um, face to go with that?” Laura asked. 

“She’s a tree,” Stiles snorted. “A tree that’s lived hundreds if not thousands of years. We all look the same to her. Cut her some slack, will you?” 

“Well, on that note,” Talia said pulling Andrew along with her, “we better see to lunch.” She and Andrew escaped to the palace. 

“Does she realize we just had breakfast?” Stiles asked rhetorically. 

“Welp,” Laura said popping her p. “I guess we know who the two people who got busy were.” 

“Gross,” Cora twisted her nose. 

Stiles blushed. “Do you mean…” 

“Mine,” Mable giggled. 

“I’m out of here,” Laura said quickly. “I need to bleach my brain. Cora, do you want to spar with me until I pass out and can forget this conversation took place?” 

“Yea, I’m with you,” Cora said quickly following her sister leaving Derek, Mable and the three guards. 

Stiles helped Mable to stand and stretched. “Hey, I don’t think we met yesterday. I’m Stiles. You’re Isaac, right?” He said holding his hand out to the curly blond. 

The blond smiled, pleased his name was remembered. “Yea,” he said shyly. 

“I’m Erica,” the voluminous blond said pulling him into a bone crushing hug. 

Mable stomped her foot and got between them. “Mine!” She growled. 

Erica smiled brightly and took a step back. “I’m sorry, little princess,” she bowed respectfully. Mable scowled and took Stiles’s hand. 

“I’m Boyd,” the third guard said with a calm smile as though he was used to Erica’s antics. 

“They had my back a few years ago when we were settling some border disputes in the East,” Derek said by way of introduction. “They’ve been with me ever since.” 

“Our fearless leader gets into trouble like it’s his job when we aren’t around,” Erica nodded. 

“I do not,” Derek said with a scowl. 

“Two words,” Isaac grinned. “Spiked ale.” 

Erica laughed. “He has a lovely singing voice after the third tankard.” 

Derek turned red. 

“And a huge repertoire of bawdy tavern ballads,” Isaac threw in. 

Stiles laughed. He sensed Derek’s discomfort and changed the conversation. “Why don’t you guys wear one of those really ugly medallions?” At their blank looks Stiles blushed. “You know, like the guard who gave me Cora’s letter was wearing?” 

Isaac’s expression cleared. “Oh! That’s just Matt. He started wearing it a few months ago after his grandfather died and he became alpha.” 

“He thinks it makes him look stronger,” Erica snorted rolling her eyes. 

“It’s very…” Stiles wrinkled his nose. He didn’t want to mention that he almost avoided the guy because it made him a little sick. He didn’t want to sound flighty. 

“Creepy,” Isaac finished for him. “I tried to get rid of it one day, but he went nuts and…” 

“There was a fire in the West Garden about a month ago,” Boyd said thoughtfully cutting Isaac off. “It wasn’t very big, but it burnt down the Queen’s roses.” 

Derek clasped his hand on Boyd’s shoulder, silently thanking him for ending the conversation. 

Stiles nodded. “Lead the way.” He picked up Mable and followed Boyd, not seeing Isaac’s and Erica’s surprised expressions. Derek smiled at how easily Mable accepted Stiles. 

  
  


It was fairly easy to see where the fire was. The plants had grown around it, but they were stunted, new grown, not yet in bloom. Stiles carefully put Mable down and examined everything carefully. He created a perimeter and asked Isaac get his bag from his room. In a few minutes he was crawling in the dirt, taking little samples of the soil and the plants. Derek and the others sat on the grass, content to watch him, but ready to jump up at a moment’s notice. 

“Is that all he brought with him?” Erica whispered. 

“Yea,” Isaac whispered back. He was quiet for a minute. “Matt said Cora sent him to Trevorton to deliver her letter.” Trevorton was a hard four day and night ride away from the capital. If you changed horses every night and morning. 

“He have a horse?” Boyd asked just as softly. 

Isaac shook his head. 

Derek scowled and couldn’t look away from the hole on the bottom of Stiles’s left shoe. The leather of both shoes was well mended but thin and well past time to be discarded. They must be hell to walk in. They certainly wouldn’t keep out the rain or, gods forbid, the snow in the mountains between the capital and Trevorton. 

Stiles’s clothes were beyond description. They were so thin and patched that Derek had no idea what they were originally, but he would put money they were discarded food sacks or something similar in their past lives. Given how small his bag was, they were probably his only set of clothes which meant he didn’t even have a coat. Derek shuddered at the thought. Whatever he was charging for curing his daughter, Derek intended to double it, just on principle. 

The idiot probably wouldn’t accept it. Derek reflected. Cora’s friends had a tendency to be a little on the flaky side. It actually wouldn’t surprise Derek in the least if it hadn’t occurred to Stiles to actually charge for saving his daughter’s life. Derek rubbed his temple. He could feel a headache coming on. Which, for a werewolf, was saying something. 

Derek stood up and picked up his daughter. “We need to see mom,” he announced. Stiles nodded and waved in a distracted manner. Derek turned to the others. “Make sure he doesn’t run away or do anything stupid.” 

Erica snorted and Isaac laughed. Boyd nodded seriously. Derek walked into the house cradling his daughter. “So, what do you think of Stiles, Mable? Should we keep him?” 

“Mine, mine, mine,” his daughter laughed. 

“Stop that,” Derek smiled. “I know you understand what I’m saying. Should we have him stay with us?” 

“Yes, daddy. He should stay with us,” Mable said, her eyes bright. 

Derek laughed. It was a well guarded secret that his daughter, for all of her three years was preternaturally brilliant. She could, when she wanted to, speak very clearly and in complete sentences. Her mother was a genius who could speak several languages and could ride any horse without a saddle before most people could count to ten. Derek fed that spark of intelligence, teaching her to read when most people were still playing with toys. His family firmly supported him. The art his mom taught was thinly veiled history and culture lessons. Laura taught her court manners and diplomacy. Her grandfather was a math genius and Cora was teaching her about nature and hunting. 

Derek had a theory that Mable’s unnatural intelligence had something to do with the Alpha Pack he had defeated just prior to her conception. By all accounts, their power should have driven him mad, but it didn’t. It made him stronger, faster, made his senses more acute, but it didn’t overpower him. No, it made his control almost perfect. And it made his daughter perfect. 

Derek kissed her head. “I think he should stay too.” 

“He smells like…” Mable’s forehead wrinkled and she placed her hand on his heart. 

“Like Daddy?” He asked not understanding. 

Mable tilted her head and thought over his words. She finally shook her head. “No. Like.” She touched her heart then his. “Like mine. Like Ours.” 

Derek nodded. Stiles’s scent was…. Intoxicating. Derek could get lost in that scent alone. It didn’t surprise him that he daughter reacted the same way. “I know, love. But we’ll have to be clever if we’re going to figure out how to convince him to stay here with us.” 

“Okay, Daddy.” Mable said kissing his cheek. 

Derek smiled and knocked on his mother’s study door. “Come in, Derek,” his mother called. 

Derek opened the door and put Mable on the ground. Mable ran over to her grandmother who was seated at her desk. Talia hugged her tightly. Derek tactfully didn’t mention his mother had changed and bathed recently. Andrew was sitting in the window seat looking at some old books. “There’s my angel!” Andrew said snapping his book shut. “I recently got some new maps in from the Islands. Do you want to take a look at them with me?” 

Mable grabbed her grandfather’s hand and they walked out the side door leaving Derek and his mother alone. 

“So, this morning was interesting,” his mother observed with a blush. “I’ve started looking for hints that one of our ancestors had the foresight to plant a sentient tree.” 

“Then you don’t doubt him?” 

Talia’s blush deepened. “No, I don’t doubt him at all.” 

Derek coughed. Unlike his sisters, he wasn’t keen on embarrassing anyone. Especially his mom. “What did he ask for? For payment?” 

Talia motioned for him to sit. “He asked for access to the garden. He thinks someone had poisoned our precious girl, then went on a mini rant about how the doctors we engaged were somehow bought off into prescribing a treatment that would slowly kill her.” She sighed wearily. “I don’t think he’s wrong.” 

Derek was quiet for a few minutes thinking over what his mother said. “As the Nemeton suggested there was a fire in the West Garden a little while ago.” 

“The roses,” Talia nodded. 

The silence was heavy in the room before Derek spoke again. “Two things. One, I want to keep him here. He can see things we’re blind to. He’s not afraid to speak his mind and we need that right now.” 

“He said he needs two things,” Talia nodded. “Access to financial records and the rumor mill. Your father has already started looking into the financials. After dinner tonight Andrew and Stiles can start looking for whatever Stiles was hoping to find.” 

“The rumor mill will help with my second thing as well. I want to be able to repay him. Handsomely. He doesn’t strike me as the kind of person who thinks about himself at all. Lydia Martin will see he’s well dressed and nothing happens in the country she doesn’t know about.” 

Talia’s eyes hardened and she frowned. “Derek,” she started, but Derek quickly cut her off. 

“Mom, we’ve been through this. Jackson Whittemore’s alleged crimes…” 

“He killed two families, Derek. Fathers, mothers, children, in cold blood. There were witnesses! Their blood was on his hands and he didn’t even have a defense. There’s no ‘alleged’ about this. Jackson Whittemore is a murderer,” Talia said coldly. 

“Mom,” Derek said quietly. “I can’t explain it, but I know. I. Know. He’s not guilty.” Derek closed his eyes and composed himself. When he opened them he took a breath. “And this isn’t about him. This is about Lydia Martin. I’d like for her to meet Stiles.” 

“I don’t want her in my house or anywhere near my granddaughter.” 

“We’ll call on her this afternoon and be back by 7 for our walk,” Derek said standing up. “Will you watch Mable?” 

“Of course,” came Talia’s tight reply. 

Derek nodded and left, shutting the door behind him. He thought back to the Whittemore situation. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that his mother was correct. The evidence against Jackson was overwhelming. People were convicted with less. But there was something in the shattered look in Jackson’s eyes that convinced Derek the man somehow wasn’t guilty of what he had done. He just didn’t know how to prove it. 

The sound of laughter pulled him away from his thoughts. Boyd, Erica, Isaac, and Stiles walked through the archway. Derek schooled his thoughts and joined them. “Isaac, can you head to the Martin Estate and ask Lydia if she’s host us for lunch?” He asked quietly. 

Isaac’s face clouded slightly, but he nodded and took off quickly. 

Erica snorted her displeasure. 

“Boyd, Erica, can you keep the house from burning down? And make sure the little princess doesn’t only eat cookies for dinner?” Boyd nodded seriously, but Erica crossed her arms in front of her and opened her mouth to say something but Derek silenced her with a look before turning to Stiles. 

Stiles was watching their interactions with raised eyebrows, not missing anything. “And me?” 

“I would like to take you to lunch with the second scariest person in the world,” Derek replied smoothly. “You have dirt on your nose.” 

Stiles rubbed his nose with his sleeve. “Who’s the scariest?” 

Derek motioned for him to follow as he led him to Andrew’s study. “We’re about to face her and tell her we’re skipping out on her. I’ll let you do it. You seem to be her favorite right now.” 

Stiles looked a little nervous. “Your mom?” 

Derek snorted as he stopped in front of a door. “Worse,” he whispered. “Get ready.” He opened the door. 

“Mine!” 


	4. Making the Acquaintance of the Very Formidable Lydia Martin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles meets Lydia.

An hour later Stiles and Derek were on horseback trodding at a swift pace away from the palace. Stiles barely had time to wash his face and hands after pulling himself away from Mable. The front of his shirt was still damp from her tears and his sleeve now sported a small tear from where she had tugged on it a little too hard. He hoped it wasn’t too noticeable. 

“I really am sorry,” Derek apologized again. “She usually calms down once you make plans with her. I don’t know why she’s so skeptical that you’re going to accompany us on the cookie walk or why she insisted on holding your bag hostage.” 

“I, um, I don’t spend much time around children,” Stiles admitted. “Do they always get attached so quickly?” 

Derek considered for a minute. “I don’t know about most children. I can tell you Mable doesn’t. Pretty much the opposite really. We don’t have many people in the palace because it… upsets her. She doesn’t like people she doesn’t know in her territory.” 

“I kind of noticed the palace seemed kind of… empty.” 

“We have people who help keep the house up, you know, Betsy and Jill in the kitchen with a few of their apprentices. Jeff, Susan, and Mark come by a few days a week to dust and clean. George and Meredith in the barn and gardens. For the most part, we try to be as self sufficient as we can. I mean, when there are state dinner and guests, the people from the town like to dress up in fancy uniforms and pretend they are servants or something. But we’re really not that different than anyone else.” 

“That’s really…. Weird?” 

“Why is that weird? Why should we put on airs just because we were born into a certain family? I know what you mean, though. Years ago, it was a real problem when people came sniffing around looking to make a political alliance through marriages. A lot of them never dressed themselves much less worked a day in their lives. Mom believes a monarch is the servant to the people. A lot of people who wanted to form an alliance with us saw their people as servants to them. I don’t want to live in that world. I’d rather live in mine.” 

“So, what’s your day job?” Stiles teased, not really expecting an answer. 

“Usually it’s defense,” Derek answered without skipping a beat. “I like to teach self defense to the people in the city and take short trips to the neighboring cities. It’s a good feeling when your people can defend themselves. Plus it keeps crime down. 

“During harvest, I help in the fields to bring the crops in. I’m fast and strong so I can really move the process along which helps when we have a wet fall. In the winter, I usually can recruit a few of the younger pups and help them with their hunting skills so everyone has meat on their tables. It also helps keep the forests from being over hunted. And it gives me the advantage of knowing the different alphas and alliances in the kingdom. I’ve been trying to balance it with sticking close to home so I don’t leave Mable for too long, but I think in a few years she’ll be able to join me. I think she’ll be more like my dad, Cora and I; she’s a little shy around new people. Present company excepted, of course.” He glanced over to find Stiles gaping at him. 

“But… But what about the taxes, and the treasury full of gold and the silk dresses, and the lavish parties?” Stiles sputtered. 

Derek cocked his head. “We have some of that, i guess. Well, we have the taxes. And a treasury. But it’s not a room filled with gold. Well, I’m sure it has some gold. But not a lot. We have some savings for a few bad years of drought or a natural disaster or something like that. It would be stupid not to. That’s what tax money is for. To improve the lives of the people and to shore up for a bad spell. We’ve been investing a lot in our people. Making improvements in the roads and trade, giving people access to books, inviting teachers into our country. We don’t quite have a handle on modern medicines though. A high percentage of our population is supernatural, so medicine is kind of a hit or miss thing which is bad news. We want more humans to feel welcome in our lands. But without a way to care for them, why would they come?” Derek slowed down. 

Stiles stopped staring at him and turned to see a huge ugly monstrosity on the hill. It was built from blackened stone with barbed fortifications and 5 armed guards stationed within eyesight of each other. On one of the parapets hung a cage that would fit a human. Thankfully it was empty. 

“This is where you’re taking me for lunch?” 

“Here?” Derek asked raising his eyebrows. “No, don’t be ridiculous. I just need to make a quick stop.” He dismounted. “Just wait here. Don’t come any closer. The guards have orders to shoot anyone who’s not me.” Derek took a leather satchel from his saddlebag and quickly walked up the hill. 

Stiles looked around, glad to have some time to himself. When he and Cora met, he didn’t even know she was a princess. That he learned after a bar fight when she pulled out a handful of gold coins that more than paid for the damages. At the time she had made a joke of it and Stiles didn’t think any more about it. Then he met her several weeks later when he was tending to the mayor’s pregnant wife and Cora was, you guessed it, the mayor’s honored guest. He thought she was a one off and went on his merry way. Now it seemed that the whole family was like that. 

Stiles had spent the last five years keeping to himself. More often than not living rough in the forests or in caves. He traveled constantly, too scared Gerard would hear of him and come after him if he stayed anywhere for too long. He knew Gerard was still after him. After the old man heard of what happened in his home after he had left, his desire for Stiles increased exponentially; not only could he produce a potion he could sell to the highest bidder, but he also had some kind of destructive magic that could actually disintegrated people. 

Gerard almost caught Stiles a few times. Stiles managed to evade him with the help of the friends he had made on this travels, but the thought of putting them in harm’s way made him sick. He couldn’t let that happen. So he had a 12 hour rule. He wouldn’t stay in one place for more than 12 hours. The only exception to the rule was went he or the person was hurt. And they really had to be hurt. 

Stiles closed his eyes and tilted his face to the sun. He would leave. Right after talking with Andrew. Talia and Derek had this firmly under control. Despite what the Nemeton said, no one would hurt the baby girl. She’d be fine. He had planted enough doubt in their minds that they would be more vigilant against whomever had tried in the first place. 

And, Stiles thought ignoring the hole in his heart, if worse came to worse Cora knew how to get in touch with him. Maybe not quickly. But he’d make it a point to travel through more cities an listen more to town gossip. He’d hear if they needed him. 

“Let’s go,” Derek announced, making Stiles jump. He hadn’t even heard him coming. 

Derek mounted his horse and took off in the direction they came. They bypassed the city and rode hard for a little over a hour until they came to a huge manor house. It was grand and refined. Stiles died a little inside because he knew he was sweaty and covered in dirt. A withering glance at Derek told him the prince looked perfect, which seemed to be his default. Damn him. Not even a hair out of place. 

Stiles kind of hated him. 

A uniformed footman took their horses. The side-eye the man gave was enough to let Stiles know he felt the same way about Stiles’s disheveled appearance. Derek didn’t even notice as he bounded up the gracefully curved marble stair to the entrance way. The door opened as Derek neared and a uniformed maid bowed low. 

“Hello, Elyse,” Derek greeted quietly. “How is the Lady?” 

“Much better now the princess is feeling better, your highness,” the maid whispered glancing at Stiles curiously. 

Stiles wished the ground would open up and swallow him. 

“She’s in the parlor,” Elyse bowed again. 

Derek made his way, obviously familiar with the house. 

Stiles followed him, ignoring the pebble in his shoe. Maybe he could eat with the horses. That could be an option, right? 

Derek and Stiles entered a large cheerfully lit room with huge windows overlooking a beach. A breathtaking redhead was seated on a silk covered couch reading a thick book. She didn’t bother to look up when they entered. Isaac was in the window seat sipping on a cup of tea. 

“Two and a half hours notice after three months, Derek,” the woman said dryly. “I’m surprised you gave me any notice at all.” She finally glanced up. Her piercing gaze studied Stiles as though he was an interesting circus exhibit and she made a motion with her hand. 

“Hello, Lydia,” Derek said walking further into the room. 

Lydia rolled her eyes and made the motion again. 

Stiles just looked at her, confused. 

“Turn around,” she commanded. 

Stiles slowly turned around. 

“Take off your shirt,” she ordered. 

“No!” Stiles said jerking back. 

Lydia snapped her book shut and stood up. She walked over to him and even though she was several inches shorter than he was, she towered over him. “You saved the life of my favorite princess. I am going to shower you with gifts now whether you like it or now. If you try to resist I am going to engage the best trackers in the kingdom, including Derek here to find you and follow you so they can leave you gifts everywhere; every inn, forest, cave, and hole- until you can’t stop anywhere without everyone knowing exactly who you are and what you’ve done. Do you understand? Now take off your shirt,” she threatened. 

Suddenly Stiles remembered Derek called her the second most terrifying person in the world. He did not have any doubts about that now as he unbuttoned his shirt and carefully pulled it off. Isaac gasped from his place by the window and Stiles felt Derek go still. Lydia’s blank expression didn’t change as she slowly circled him taking in his well toned chest that was marred with deep savage claw marks. On his back were still more claw marks amongst other scars. 

“Those are from Cora’s claws,” Derek pointed out quietly. 

“She,” Stiles cleared his throat. “When I met her she was hallucinating from mistletoe. I didn’t want her to hurt herself. Can I put my shirt back on please?” 

“No,” Lydia said decisively. “Isaac, please call for Alex and have Elyse run my new friend a bath.” Her eyes found Stiles’s as Isaac scampered out of the room. “My name is Lydia Martin. I am so honored to meet you, Stiles. If ever you need anything, I am here for you.” She said leaning forward and kissing his cheek. 

  
  


In short order, Derek and Lydia were seated comfortably in a different room of the house. Isaac had disappeared, presumptively to go back to the capital. Lydia was terrifying on her best days and she often used that to her advantage. “… so we have a sentient tree guarding us, a poisoner, and a conspiracy in the medical world against us.” 

“You’ve been busy,” Lydia with, her lips curled slightly. “Well, you Hales certainly keep things from being boring.” 

“I didn’t even think of poison until he mentioned it,” Derek admitted. 

“You are a good man and a better wolf. Poison is a human’s crime,” Lydia answered. 

“Um, hi,” Stiles called shyly from the doorway. 

Derek stumbled and stood up. Lydia smirked when she saw the blush stain Derek’s cheeks. She turned to Stiles. “Come in, Stiles. Lunch will be in a few minutes. You look wonderful.” 

“Thank you,” Stiles blushed. His clothes were simple but cut from excellent fabric and extremely well tailored. They spoke of refinement and quality without bragging. The leather of his boots shone but fit as though they were made from clouds and cut for his feet. He didn’t know clothes could be so comfortable. “Derek tells me you are a traveller so you’ll need a coat. That will take a few days, but I’m sure you’ll be pleased once it comes. You’ll come back so I can present it to you, won’t you?” Her question was more of a command. 

“Of course,” Stiles said nervously. 

“Good,” Lydia said easily solving Derek’s most pressing problem. “Now, tell me why you think my favorite princess was poisoned.” 

  
  


Introducing Lydia and Stiles might have been a tactical mistake, Derek thought as he sat back and listened to them chatter excitedly. Their minds were strangely in tuned with each other, each able to follow each other’s quick thoughts effortlessly and push each other to make intuitive leaps the other would have missed. Lydia did know everything happening inside the kingdom and a good deal outside as well. Stiles had a keen eye for detail and recognized patterns Lydia was oblivious to. 

Derek was pretty sure they could take over the world in a week. 

Lydia and Stiles had a short list of people for Stiles to focus on when he went over finances with Derek’s father that night. Lydia was going to use her contacts to see what she could find out about the doctors they had engaged. Derek was pleased with what they had been able to accomplish. 

As Lydia stood she put a hand on Stiles’s arm. “There is one more person I would suggest you talk to,” she hesitated for a second, her eyes glancing at Derek before turning back to Stiles. “Peter Hale.” 

“Why do you think talking to Peter would be a good idea?” Derek asked skeptically. 

Lydia pursed her lips. “At 15 he was your grandmother’s left. He makes Stiles and I seem like children.” 

“You a child?” Stiles laughed. “He sounds terrifying.” 

Lydia returned the smile. “That’s because he is,” her smile dimmed. “His was an arranged marriage. His wife was beautiful, vain, and stupid. They had one child, a son. There were affairs on both sides. Peter’s was with a handsome man who committed treason against the kingdom. What he did is rather a mystery. It must have been something fairly large because Peter’s sliver tongue couldn’t gain him exile. His parents had him killed or he was killed. It isn’t clear. His wife couldn’t live with the shame so she set the palace on fire, killing herself and their 5 year old son. Peter was devastated and chose to go into self imposed exile. When their parents died the Queen begged him to come back. He refused.” 

“Mom doesn’t know what happened,” Derek admitted. “She was away that summer at Satomi’s pack. In the Spring he was there, in the Fall he was just gone. He wouldn’t answer her letters or let her visit him. She still writes him hoping he’ll write back one day.” 

“Your grandparents never told her?” Stiles asked surprised. 

Derek shook his head. “My grandparents were great rulers but not the best parents. My mom was married before. They had arranged for her to marry an alpha from a neighboring pack. From all accounts, the wolf was a brute. He beat her and tried to rape her on their wedding night so she gutted him. I don’t think they ever forgave her for it.” 

“Wow,” Stiles blinked a few times. 

“Well, you better get going. Are you doing the cookie walk?” Lydia asked. 

Derek smiled. “Of course. If they didn’t let Mable eat all the cookies.” 

Lydia smiled. “Give her a kiss for me.” 

Derek handed her the leather satchel and hugged her. “We’ll be back in a few days to pick up your response.” 

Lydia clutched the satchel to her and nodded. 

Stiles followed Derek out the door where the footman was waiting with their horses. By his approving look, Stiles guessed his wardrobe change was acceptable it him. He smothered a grin and mounted his horse. Derek led them at a sedate pace. 

“Lydia’s amazing,” Stiles commented. 

Derek was quiet for a while. “Lydia’s a banshee. An extremely rare banshee in that she’s found her True Mate. Jackson Whittemore is a young human who I knew only slightly.” Derek smiled bitterly in the distance. “I loathed him. He came from money, privilege; everything I hate. A few months ago he murdered 10 people. Two men, two women and 5 children and a baby. Witnesses say he didn’t even look human when he did it. They said he looked like a giant lizard monster out of a nightmare. When I found him he was covered in their blood, he had scraps of their flesh still under his nails.” Derek took a breath. “But when he looked at me, he told me he didn’t do it. He heart didn’t falter in the slightest.” 

They rode in silence for a while. 

“Lydia knows about Peter because she looked tirelessly for ways to keep Jackson from being executed. Anything to keep him alive.” 

“Did your mom…” 

Derek shook his head. “No, it was the biggest fight we ever had. I convinced her to commute his sentence. He’s the only inmate in that prison we stopped by this morning. I try to visit every few days to pass messages for them. I wish I could do more. He might have killed those people, but he isn’t guilty of the crime. It just isn’t who he is. It just…”. Derek took a breath. “His family was ruined and all of his friends abandoned him. Even his best friend since childhood is horrible to him. Isaac says Matt treats him worse than anyone and tried to shame Lydia into accepting his hand. If I could demote him I would but I have to tread lightly else my mother would deny my visiting privileges.” 

Stiles didn’t know what to say so the rest of the way they rode in silence. 


	5. Piecing the Puzzle Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles spends time in town and starts to realize what he could have.

As soon as Stiles got to the front of the palace, the door flung open and Mable came running out “Mine!” She screamed running to his legs. Stiles’s legs were still a bit shaky from the long horse ride so they buckled. Mable giggled and scent marked him aggressively. “Mine, mine, mine!” She sang. 

“Not even a hello,” Derek said towering over them. 

“Daddy!” Mable said jumping up. 

Derek picked her up with one hand and helped Stiles up with another. Stiles dusted himself off. 

“Taken out by a three year old, nice,” Cora smirked. 

“Woah, you wash up nice, Stiles,” Laura said approvingly. 

“Mine!” Mable nodded. 

“Are mom and dad ready?” Derek asked. 

“If dinner’s anything to go by, they are enacting a certain incident under a tree,” Laura said merrily. 

“Can we not talk about that!” Cora exclaimed. 

“Get the basket,” Derek said quickly, hoping to head off that particular conversation. 

“Baskets, little brother. We were in rare cookie decorating form, weren’t we, princess?” Laura said hefting two large baskets. Boyd and Erica walked out the door quietly. 

“Isaac’s not coming either,” Cora answered his unasked question. “He’s hiding under his bed worried Lydia’s going to come after him.” 

Laura snorted. Derek turned and started them down the walkway. 

The evening was beautiful. Someone had spread the word the little princess was feeling better because it seemed everyone was out. Stiles was surprised to notice the little girl was shy around people. She smiled, waved, said hello and thank you, but shied away from everyone not family or him. She directed with her tiny hand for Cora and Laura to hand out cookies, but got flustered and seemed actually scared when someone got too close to Derek or strangely enough, Stiles. At one point in the night she made grabby hands at Stiles until Derek handed her over and then she buried her face in his neck and promptly fell asleep. 

Just as quickly as the baskets emptied, they were filled with gifts for the princess. Flowers, jars of jam and honey, little toys and paints, roughly drawn pictures from other children; someone even tried to give her a puppy, which her father graciously said no to. 

People stopped them and asked them their opinions on everything. Stiles was delighted to be pulled into conversations about plants and remedies. He was happy to be able to recommend some easy homemade teas to help this ailment or that discomfort. Mindful of his conversation earlier with Derek about medicine, Stiles could picture a life for himself there. Given time and a place to work, he could see himself putting all his knowledge to some use there. There was the seamstress with the aching hip that he knew just the right tincture for. He knew the perfect balm for the werewolf blacksmith whose fingertips ached from being burnt so many times. Given some of the plants growing in the royal garden, he could really help the bookbinders who had runny eyes. It made his head spin and his heart feel content. 

Derek finally motioned for them to turn back to the palace. He casually put his arm over Stiles’s shoulder. “Do you want me to take her?” 

“I’ve got her,” Stiles smiled softly. They had somehow lost the others in the crowd. 

“Not too overwhelming, is it?” Derek asked with a matching smile. 

“Not at all. It’s nice.” 

They walked in silence for a while. 

“You could stay,” Derek said quietly. “I could sponsor you until you got on your feet; open a shop. Set up roots here. People love you. You would do well here.” 

Stiles bit his lip. Mable snored lightly against his neck. 

“I want to,” he admitted. 

“How long have you been running?” 

Stiles didn’t even question how Derek knew. “Five years, give or take a few months.” 

Derek waited him out. 

“My dad was sick. It was a breathing sickness that got into his chest. I made a potion to help him and…” he stopped talking for a few minutes. “The wrong person took it. On the plus side, it worked. On the minus side, that person wanted more and didn’t like it when I said no. At the end of it, I lost my dad, my home, my best friend, and killed one, if not two people. That person’s still after me.” 

“Even after all this time?” 

“Especially after all this time. It used to be a money thing, now it’s a pride thing. And if this guy has anything, it’s his pride.” 

Derek pulled him closer and scent marked him. “We can protect you.” 

Stiles let himself rest against Derek’s chest. “You have too much to lose. I’m not worth it.” He pulled away and held Mable out for Derek to take. “Now, provided your father is still free this evening, I have some numbers to go through.” He walked swiftly to the palace leaving Derek holding his daughter. 

Neither of them noticed the two men watching from a dark doorway. 

  
  


Andrew met Stiles at the front door. “I’ve made some tea and snuck some cookies. You haven’t had too many cookies already, have you? I can get something else.” 

Stiles smiled at the man’s eagerness. “No, cookies are fine.” 

“None of my family willingly go over numbers with me,” Andrew said nervously. “I tell them it’s detective work, but they just roll their eyes. Mable gets, or will get it. When she’s older,” he said fumbling with his words. 

“Relax, I know she’s a genius. She follows conversations with her eyes too well to not be comprehending what’s being said,” Stiles laughed as he walked through the study door. 

“You won’t tell anyone, right? They’ll be so crushed!” 

“We’ll just keep it between you and me,” Stiles assured him. 

“Okay, what did you and Lydia come up with?” 

“Do you have a map of the kingdom?” 

“Maps? Oh, I have maps!” Andrew said going over quickly and pulling out a huge map of the kingdom with the family holdings, towns, and trade routes marked. 

“Wow,” Stiles said, impressed. 

“Hobby of mine,” Andrew waved dismissively. 

“Okay, the obvious families would be the old ones, the Talbots, wolf; the Tates, humans; the Itos, wolf; and the Dunbars, wolf. Each of them aren’t as rich as they were, could be looking to better their futures.” 

Andrew put a marker on the map representing each family. “Okay, newer families?” 

“Laheys, mixed; Hewetts, wolf; Dahlers, mixed; and the Raekens, wolf.” 

“Any one offs?” 

“A few- Julia Baccari, witch; Robert Singer, human; and Jennifer Blake, human.” 

Andrew finished putting the markers on the map and studied it for a minute. “That’s too many, we’ll have to narrow this down. Let me get another map.” 

Andrew turned and opened a few tubes lying on a shelf behind him. He quickly drew one out and replaced the map, careful to put the markers in their correct places. The map was larger, showing more of the world. “This poison- since it affected Mable, it would probably affect other wolves, right? If it was indigenous, we would have heard about it by now- have some record of it. So I doubt it’s from around here. So we’re actually looking for three variables. One- someone with access to the gardens both three months ago and again one month ago; two- someone who traded outside the country frequently enough to broker that kind of transaction, and three- someone rich enough to purchase something I would imagine to be pretty expensive.” Andrew looked up to see Stiles starting up at him with his mouth open. “Surprised? Don’t be. My best friend is a twisty little shit.” 

“You called your wife a twisty little shit?” 

“Tal? No, I like my guts were they are, thank you very much,” Andrew sighed. “Her brother, Peter.” 

“What happened to him?” Stiles asked forgetting to be tactful. 

Andrew shrugged. “He kind of fell off the wheels when his parents forced him to marry this greedy peacock and I was too self absorbed following after his sister like a lovesick puppy. When Tal went on her goodwill tour, I jumped at the chance to be with her, thinking that was my golden moment. It wasn’t. We got back and he was gone.” 

“Where did he go?” 

“He owns an estate a few hours north from here, just outside of Balmore,” Andrew said sadly. “He won’t return our letters or let us visit. And we’ve tried. Believe me, we’ve tried. There’s nothing Tal and I want to do more than share what we have with him.” Andrew sighed and looked at the map. 

“Okay, let’s put these in priority. Easiest is by access to the palace…” 

  
  


Hiding underneath Derek’s father’s unassuming persona was a fire breathing dragon of knowledge, Stiles concluded pretty quickly. His specialty was names, dates, and numbers. He might not know the latest fashions or how to tell one horse from another, but he could tell you exactly how much the Lahey’s paid in taxes 13 years ago (2,143) or the name of the ship that sank four years off the North Coast (The Fantail). They quickly narrowed down the list to the Dunbars, Talbots, Dahlers, and Jennifer Blake. Then came the painstaking look through the books. Andrew pointed out they wouldn’t be looking for taxes paid so much as they would be looking for unexplained increases in expenses incurred associated with entertaining, luxuries, or staff turnover. 

(“Loyal staff is actually really hard to find. Rebellion usually means there’s going to be death. No one wants to work in a household where that becomes a possibility,” Andrew explained. “And don’t fool yourself. The staff knows everything.”) 

“I don’t suppose we can add the Parrishs to the list, can we?” Andrew joked as they crossed the Dunbars off the list. 

Stiles looked up from his books. “What?” 

“The Parrishs?” Andrew pulled out another book. “I’m kidding, of course. They’ve a family of hell hounds from the south. They are the epitome of good.” He sighed. “The oldest son, Jordan, is sort of dating Laura.” 

“Laura has a boyfriend?” 

“Yea, terrifying, isn’t it?” Andrew said with a sigh. “He’s actually a really good guy. Tal and I can’t find a single reason not to love him. It’s almost heartbreaking. Cora thinks they’re going to be announcing their engagement by the end of the summer.” 

“That’s good, isn’t it?” Stiles asked, confused. 

“I still remember when she was as young as Mable,” Andrew said stretching. “It was hard enough to watch Derek get married. Can you imagine how hard it’s going to be to watch Laura? I’m going to be a crying mess!” 

Stiles smiled and looked back down at his book. He read the same sentence a few times before a strange thought started tickling his awareness. “Who courted them?” 

“Courted who?” 

“Derek and Laura. I bet they have a lot of people who want to marry them. Who are they?” 

Andrew looked at the list. “No one on the list.” 

“No, I mean, foreigners,” he said standing up and looking at the map. 

Andrew rattled off some names and put the markers on the map. “…oh and Kate Argent.” 

Stiles heart jumped. “Argent?” 

Andrew looked up, hearing Stiles’s heart. “Yea, she’s from a merchant family in the city states.” 

“When?” Stiles said, his mouth dry. 

“Always,” Andrew said pouring Stiles the last of the tea. He held out the cup for Stiles to take. “She’s his least favorite and most persistent. They were shameless when Mable fell ill. Tal repeatedly has to tell Kate not to come visit. She wants to ‘comfort him in his time of need’ and ‘see for herself how the little princess is doing’. Tal and I try not to get too involved, but we despise the woman. I would rather him marry a goat than her.” 

Stiles’s laugh was a little shaky. He looked at the map and pulled out the books for Dahler. 

  
  


Stiles stared at the map blankly. Nothing. They had nothing. He was so sure. But there was nothing. 

Andrew had fallen asleep. Stiles quietly stood up and started shelving the books, careful to put them back in the right order. He got to Andrew’s desk and looked at the papers on his desk and absently read over them. Treaties, ship manifests, duty rosters. Gods, these people were busy. Stiles put everything in a neat pile then looked at the duty roster again. Erica, Boyd, and Isaac were always stationed together. They must be really good friends. He yawned and Andrew jerked up as though waking up from a nightmare. Stiles looked down at the duty roster and his eyes were caught on one name. 

Matthew Dahler. 

Suddenly everything clicked together. 

“Bestiary.” He said suddenly. “Do you have a bestiary?” 

“What?” Andrew asked blinking the sleep from his eyes. 

Stiles willed himself to calm down. “May I use your library?” 

“Yea, down two doors to the left,” Andrew yawned. 

“Great. Go get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.” 

Andrew nodded and stumbled off to bed. 

Stiles grabbed the lantern carefully and walked down the hall to the library. He opened the door and cringed when he saw how large it was. “Terrific,” he muttered to himself. “And they tell me about this now?” He went to the nearest shelf and started looking. 

Lucky for him, Stiles found the section he was looking for fairly quickly. His trembling hands flipped impatiently until he found the pages he was looking for. 

Kanima 

Scary lizard monster looking thing- check 

Paralysis inducing venom- check 

Doesn’t remember when some shithead controls him- check 

And that’s not even the interesting part, Stiles thought slamming the book shut. The thing that controlled it? An amulet. Which lead to Matt Dahler, the newly minted alpha who had questionable taste in jewelry. And whose family’s estate was on a direct trading route with the the city state closest to where the Argents lived. 

Stiles closed his eyes and forced his thoughts in order. He had a theory that the information the Nemeton had given him was focused on a smaller time frame than he had originally thought. 

The maybe wolf and the darach? Peter and his lover? Maybe the treason was the creation of the amulet. A kanima in the wrong hands would be a very dangerous and valuable weapon. And in creating it, the Nemeton was weakened which would be an added bonus to any enemy to Beacon. What if Peter’s lover didn’t die or get killed? What if he escaped and somehow tangled with Gerard? Evil did seem to attract evil. 

The two people getting busy were pretty obvious. Stiles didn’t want to think too hard on that one. Given how much the Nemeton loves the family, the births of the new generation of Hales would have definitely distracted it. 

The bad people coming in could be anyone, but Stiles’s intuition pushed him to the Argents. Maybe they tried to use the amulet, but couldn’t figure out how to get it to work. Gerard wasn’t known for being good to the people he used. It wouldn’t surprise Stiles in the least if he killed the darach before getting him to spill his secrets. 

So the Argents came back to where the amulet was from, maybe Kate Argent was really interested in marrying Derek. Maybe it was all a ploy to get the kingdom and kill the Hales off. Maybe they just wanted to get the damn thing to work. Whatever it was, they were unsuccessful and they ended up giving it to Matt Dahler who somehow figured it out and used it on Jackson to discredit him, get his estate, and Lydia. 

Argent finds out, realizes what he gave up and threatens Matt. Matt has control over Jackson, so he has an unlimited supply of venom so he starts harvesting it and decides to test it on some roses hoping Talia or someone would prick their fingers on the thorns. Mable does and Gerard buys off a bunch of doctors with a plan of sending his daughter back to console the grieving father. 

It was thin. Held together with spiderwebs and fantasy. 

Stiles needed to talk to Peter Hale. Stiles carefully put the book back in it’s place and walked to the front door. He paused for a moment and wondered if he should tell someone. He shook his head. He could be wrong. He opened the door and walked swiftly into the night. 


	6. The Queen’s Left

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles meets the Queen’s brother and Andrew’s best friend.

Stiles knew two things. 

One- he was close. He had walked/ jogged most of the way; his urgency giving his feet wings. 

Two- he was being followed. And not by anyone friendly. 

Stiles picked his pace up and was dismayed the sound of horses behind him picked up as well. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled and he prayed someone friendly would come along. 

In the middle of the night. 

Okay, in the very, very early morning. 

So not really likely. 

Still, a guy could hope. 

The horses behind him grew faster. 

And Stiles noped right out of there and took off as fast as he could. Years on the run had made him fast on his feet, but the shouting behind him made him realize that maybe he was in over his head. 

Stiles’s eyes stung as the sweat ran down his face. His heart raced as he felt a pull off the main road onto a small well-worn trail. Stiles trusted his instincts and ran. Tree branches cut his face as the trail twisted. The shouting grew closer. Just as Stiles was about to give up hope, the trees opened up to a small clearing. A modest house lay in the center, dark and foreboding. Stiles heart tugged at him urgently. Stiles sprinted through the field to the front door that opened as if by magic. 

A tall, thin man stepped out. Stiles skidded to a stop. 

“In the house,” the man commanded, his eyes flashing red. 

Stiles ducked in without question as the man stepped in the yard. 

Stiles stood with his hands on his knees gasping for breath waiting. Just as he caught his breath the door opened again and the man stepped back in. He lit a lantern hanging by the door and Stiles caught his first glance at Peter Hale. 

“I usually don’t get visitors before dawn. It must be my lucky day,” Peter said sardonically. 

“My name is…” 

“Stiles,” Peter cut him off with a wave of his hand. “Yes, I know. I may not write my sister and Andrew back, but I do read their letters. Come in. Let me get you something to drink. I imagine you have quite the story to tell me if you’ve run all the way here from the Capital.” 

Stiles had just taken his seat at a small table when there was a loud pounding at the door. Stiles flinched. Peter smiled at him wickedly. “More visitors. I am very popular today.” 

“I’m sorry for leading them here. I’ll go…” 

“Don’t be silly!” Peter stood up. “I haven’t had this much fun in years. Make yourself comfortable. This will only take a few minutes.” With that, Peter walked to a door leading down a set of stairs instead of answering his front door. 

The pounding continued and Stiles felt as though he was going to throw up. Despite Peter’s calm demeanor, he shouldn’t have lead the Argents to him. If Peter got hurt, Stiles would never forgive himself. Stiles stood up and paced the room. The pounding stopped, replaced by snarls, shouting, growls, then some truly terrified screaming. Stiles wrapped his arms around himself and tried to steady his breathing. 

The door opened and a man was thrown in. The man was shaking and covered in blood. He started crawling into the house, but Peter leisurely walked in and put his foot in the small of his back, effectively pinning him to the floor. “Stiles, I’d like you to meet our new friend. What did you say your name was again?” Peter asked with the slightest trace of humor. The man sobbed and Peter put more pressure on his foot. “I’m sorry, we didn’t quite catch that.” 

“Adrian. Adrian Harris,” the man shouted. 

“Lovely,” Peter purred. “Why don’t you tell us what brought you to my door so early in the morning?” 

“The boy,” Harris gasped. “There’s a bounty on his head and my boss promised to double it if we brought him back alive.” 

Peter looked at Stiles with interest. Stiles shrunk in on himself. 

“Fascinating. Who is your boss and what is the bounty for?” 

“He killed two of my boss’s men.” 

“Really?” Peter pressed down harder on Harris’s back. 

“Yes!” Harris whined. “Magic. The kid has magic.” 

“Interesting,” Peter mused. “Now, who is your boss?” 

Harris hesitated and Peter pressed down again. “Argent! Gerard Argent!” 

Peter stilled for a minute. “You were quite good at shouting orders out there, so I am guessing you know a bit more than what you are saying, Mr. Harris. Young Stiles, here loves a good story. Why don’t you entertain us with one?” 

Harris sobbed. “The kid made a potion that cured Argent, made him feel half his age. When he tried to take him into service, the kid said no so Argent killed his father.” Harris wheezed. “The kid killed two of his men and disappeared. Argent’s been after him ever since.” 

“What does Gerard want with the Hales?” Stiles asked. 

Peter looked up sharply, his eyes flashing red. 

“The Hales are rich,” Harris answered with just the slightest prompting from Peter. “Argent’s daughter is going to marry the son and get rid of the rest of the family. Once that’s done, they’ll take over the treasury and have access to all the trading routes throughout the world.” 

“These are young man’s schemes,” Peter said coldly. “Gerard’s hardly that.” 

“The kid’s a magic user, he can make potions that will prolong his life indefinitely,” Harris replied. 

Stiles paled. He knew Gerard was twisted, but… 

“Why don’t you sit down, Stiles?” Peter said gently. 

“No!” Stiles said backing away. “I’m a danger to everyone I meet! I can’t put Mable and Derek in danger like that! I have to hide, I should never have…” 

Peter casually kicked the back of Harris’s head, knocking him out. He walked over and put a hand on Stiles’s shaking shoulder. “If you run, they will always come after you. Come with me, back to the capital. We can end this today.” 

Stiles looked at Peter fearfully. “I can’t put you in danger.” 

Peter laughed. “My dear boy, my life’s work is to extinguish threats like this to my kingdom. I am always in danger with or without you.” 

“But,” Stiles stopped shaking and frowned. “I thought you lived in exile.” 

“A convenient lie to give me the freedom to move in the shadows. I’m my sister’s left. It is my job to put an end to conspiracies before they rise to Talia’s awareness. Only it seems I’ve let this one grow a little too long. Come along. I have some bindings and a sack we can put over our new friend’s head to cover his face.” He said going to a closet. “Let’s bind him and prepare the horses and carriage for our trip. I think it’s time I meet my nieces and nephew, not to mention my great niece whom I’ve read so much about.” 

  
  


Stiles was sitting next to Peter who was driving a fine carriage toward the capital. Harris was bound and gagged with a bag over his head, hidden in the interior compartment. Peter had Stiles go over everything about the night his father had died. He asked about the ingredients of the different potions he had made for his father, the lengths at which he had gone to get them, the exact way he had combined them, Scott’s actions, Gerard’s treachery, and everything that came after. 

Stiles answered him honestly with as much detail as he could. In his mind nothing could redeem him from the murders he had committed. He hoped even as he was damning himself that he was giving Peter the information he needed to finally stop Gerard and protect the Hales. 

As the carriage neared the capital, Peter started to speak softly. “Magic always fascinated me. As a wolf, I have no talent for it but when I was younger I met a man who taught me quite a bit about it.” He paused. “He presented himself as a druid. I learned eventually that he was a darach, but that is another story.” He glanced at Stiles. “Druids pull their magic from the earth. The Nemeton Talia mentioned in her last letter must have been irresistible to him. He talked a length about other magic users, powerful beings whose magic was fueled by their belief rather than any outside force. Mages. In my travels I’ve met two of those beings. They were very old and their power had begun to decline, but there was something in their scent that stood out. Now that I am paying attention, I can smell the similarities in your scent.” 

“You think I’m a Mage?” Stiles asked dubiously. 

Peter smiled. “I know you’re a mage. Tell me, how long did it take you to walk to my house last night?” 

Stiles shrugged. “A few hours.” 

“It should have taken you at least a day. Harris and his men’s horses where frothing to keep up with you. And my niece’s recovery? Even a wolf should have been bedridden for longer. Somehow I think if we talked longer I could point out other times when you’ve helped people get better faster then should have been possible.” They could just see the city in the distance. “Belief is a powerful thing, Stiles. If you believed in yourself as much as you loved the people around you, you would be unstoppable.” 

Stiles thought about that for a minute, then shook himself. “That darach. I have a theory he used you to get access to the Nemeton to create an amulet that would turn a human into a kamina instead of a wolf when given the bite. I think he got away, but Gerard somehow got ahold of the amulet, but didn’t know how to use it. He tried, but when he couldn’t get it to work he gave it to a young wolf, Matt Dahler, who used it when he turned his friend, Jackson Whittemore. It worked and Jackson killed a bunch of people. He’s now imprisoned and Matt’s one of his guards. I think it was the kamina’s venom that poisoned Mable.” 

“Alan did get away,” Peter said slowly. “I followed him to the city states, but I lost his trail. Your theory would fit. Argent would have been able to hide him. If he found him useful.” Peter paused. “It isn’t widely known, but Argent is a bigoted purest. Which is why Talia dislikes him so much. He believes any non humans are blights that need to be eradicated or enslaved. No alpha in their right mind would work with him. That would explain why he couldn’t get the amulet to work.” 

“He would destroy Beacon if he ever got a foothold.” 

Peter nodded as they entered the city. “We can’t let that happen.” 


	7. Letting Going is Giving Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And finally, the Argents.

The capital was strangely subdued. The few people who were out where wearing finer clothes than Stiles had seen them wear before, but they looked worried as they quickly went about their business. As Peter and Stiles neared the palace, they saw a number of horses and carriages near the stables. “Talia hadn’t mentioned they were expecting visitors,” Peter remarked lightly as he climbed down. “I’m going to see to our friend. Why don’t you go find Derek and explain what we’ve learned?” 

Stiles nodded and walked to the side door. It took him a few minutes to find Boyd who was standing in his dress uniform outside a heavily decorated door. He looked at Stiles without expression as Stiles walked up to him. “Boyd?” 

“We thought you had left.” Boyd said quietly. 

“I had to get confirmation on some things,” Stiles said quickly. “Is Derek…” 

Boyd glanced at the door. “He’s inside.” 

“Mable?” 

“She’s with him.” 

“Can I see them?” 

Boyd flashed a quick smile. “You better be ready to grovel. The little princess was very put out that you left without saying goodbye.” 

Stiles nodded as Boyd opened the door. 

“…we want to be married by the end of the week,” Derek was saying in a monotone voice. 

Stiles stopped, shocked. Standing in front of the queen, wearing a formal suit and a crown of white flowers was Derek Hale. Holding his hand was a dark haired woman wearing an ornate flowing gown. She was armed with a long sword at her side and a bow and quiver across her back. Talia, Andrew, Laura, and Cora looked as shocked as Stiles felt. There were similarly armed men and another well dressed lady standing next to the woman. 

“Derek, this is very sudden,” Talia said slowly. “May I ask…” 

“Mine!” Mable screamed from Cora’s side. Mable broke away from Cora and ran toward Stiles, her face red with tears. Stiles opened his arms and scooped up the sobbing princess as everyone but Derek turned to look at him. 

“Guards! Apprehend him at once!” Stiles’s blood turned to ice when he recognized Gerard’s voice. 

Five rough looking men drew their swords and advanced on Stiles and the princess. 

“Sheath your weapons!” Talia commanded, standing up. The men hesitated. 

“Your majesty,” Gerard said in a greasy voice. “That man is a wanted murderer. He killed two men in cold blood. We must protect the royal family! Get him!” 

The men continued their advance. Stiles backed away and Boyd drew his weapon and stood in front of Stiles. “No! I surrender! Boyd! Get the princess to safety!” 

Boyd turned but the twang of an arrow rang out. Stiles twisted then stumbled. The arrow caught him in the shoulder. He looked down and was relieved to see the princess was unharmed. Mable, however was furious. She saw the red of his blood blooming on his shoulder and roared loudly. “No, princess, you need to run!” Stiles urged as his ears started ringing. Poison, the quiet part of his mind informed him as he fell to his knees. “Boyd!” 

Boyd sheathed his sword as the hall resounded in roars. Mable refused to let go of him, but Stiles was thrown forward as another arrow pierced his back. “Run, baby girl.” Stiles whispered. 

Boyd grabbed the princess and started dragging her back. Stiles turned back to face the men who were almost upon him. His worry for her pressed him. “Stop,” he said, tasting blood. 

The men stopped, frozen in their tracks. 

Stiles lifted his eyes to see Gerard glaring at him. The woman stared at him hatefully. She leaned over to Derek who hadn’t moved from where he was facing his parents and said very clearly, “Kill them. Kill them all for me.” 

With a blood chilling roar, Derek transformed. The seams of his clothes tore as his body doubled in size. Midnight black hair covered his body as his teeth grew and his eyes turned red. 

“Derek!” His mother commanded, her eyes flashing red but to no affect. Derek approached her intent on killing her and the rest of his family. Erica and Isaac jumped in front of the royal family, ready to give their lives. 

Stiles felt dizzy and too hot. His mind grew hazy, but he pushed that aside and forced himself to focus. He closed his eyes. 

_If you believed in yourself as much as you loved the people around you, you would be unstoppable._

Stiles’s eyes snapped open, vibrant and glowing. “Come to me,” he whispered. 

Derek stopped his approach on his family and shook his head as to clear it. 

“Come to me,” Stiles said again, stronger this time. 

Derek turned and looked at Stiles who was kneeling on the ground. Derek howled angrily. 

“No!” The woman, ordered sharply. “Kill them!” 

Derek ignored her and stalked over to Stiles. 

Stiles started crawling over to him, meeting him several feet from the door. Derek raised his wicked claws as if to strike him down, but Stiles reached up and took hold of one of his claws. “You might be a wolf, but you don’t kill without reason,” he said. He knocked the crown of white flowers off Derek’s head. “This isn’t who you are.” 

Derek stood frozen for a long moment before he slowly flowed back into his human self. “Stiles.” He said falling to his knees. 

“Arrest them,” a voice called out from the back of the room. 

Several heads looked up as Peter Hale led a large group of armed citizens into the room. 

“I wouldn’t touch him if I were you,” the woman’s cold voice rang out, stopping everyone in their tracks. “Those arrows are covered in wolfsbane. Deadly to all you filthy animals.” 

Talia stepped away from her throne and backhanded the woman. 

“Bring him to the tree,” Peter commanded some of the humans who had come to their aid. “I can tell you how to help him.” The humans rushed to comply. Derek stood to follow, but Peter shook his head. “Take care of this and see to your daughter. I’ll send word once it is safe for you to come near.” Peter quickly followed the humans. 

His sobering words turned Derek’s attention back to the Argents who were being disarmed by Cora, Andrew, Laura, and the citizens. 

“You said that enchantment was unbreakable,” the archer hissed to the other woman who was now being held by two wolves. 

“Did you not see his eyes?!” The woman cried. “He is no mere magic user. He is a mage. The power of a mage in love is implacable!” 

Talia paled, then shook her head. “Take them to Breakersgate. We will deal with them another day.” 

Andrew, Laura, and Cora led Erica, Isaac, the people and the prisoners out. Talia walked over to Derek. Derek crumbled to the ground and clutched her skirts, crying. 

  
  


Stiles slowly became aware of his surroundings; warmth of the small body nestled next to him, the large hand holding his, the smell of lavender and roses. He felt warm and comfortable and for some inexplicable reason, safe. He stretched out and blinked his eyes open. 

The first person Stiles saw was Derek looking down at him, his face filled with relieved concern. “Hey,” Stiles said, his voice rusty. 

“Sh, you’ll wake Mable,” Derek whispered. 

Stiles looked down and noticed the princess cuddled up next to him. 

“Once the wolfsbane was gone from your body, she started sneaking into your room. She wouldn’t sleep unless she was curled up next to you.” 

“Oh,” Stiles didn’t know what to say. He didn’t think that was normal protocol for murderers. 

“The Nemeton and your magic healed you. You slept under her for three days before Peter deemed it safe to move you into a room. All told, you’ve been out for 14 days.” 

“Your family?” 

“Safe. The Argents stood trial and were found guilty. Bringing weapons dipped in wolfsbane into the throne room is a capital offense in Beacon. Kate convicted herself with her own words. After Adrian Harris’s testimony several more of Argents men turned on him, including Matthew Dahler and Marin Morrell, the witch who cast the enchantment on me and on the weapons to keep the wolfsbane undetectable. Mom wrote to the other merchant princes of the city states and they all unanimously voted that Gerard and his daughter Kate be executed and Gerard’s son, Christopher inherit his estate. Peter says he’s not like Gerard at all and will be a good trading partner.” 

“Matt Dahler? So then…” 

“Jackson Whittemore was cleared of the charges,” Derek smiled. “He and Lydia are planning a winter wedding.” 

“And Peter?” 

“Now that’s he’s back, mom’s putting him to work. Laura and Cora have a bet going to see how long its going to be before he goes into self imposed exile again.” 

“How are you?” 

Derek looked away. 

Stiles squeezed his hand. 

Derek looked down to their hands. “I remember everything. I remember how much I hated her and then it was like she was the only person who mattered. I wanted to do anything she said just to get her approval. I forgot about my family, my daughter, you…” Derek shuddered. 

“You were under a spell.” 

“That you broke,” Derek looked up. “You’re a mage.” 

Stiles tugged his hand free. “And a murderer.” 

Derek grabbed his hand again. “Gerard’s men explained what happened. What you did was self defense. Marin Morrell, the witch. She was Alan Deaton’s sister. She had gone to the Argents to save her brother only to find him tortured and half dead. That would have been you if Gerard had gotten his hands on you. No one blames you for those deaths.” 

Stiles’s eyes filled with tears. 

“Stilinski.” 

Stiles glanced up. 

“Your name is Stiles Stilinski.” 

“I haven’t been able to use my name for a long time,” Stiles’s smile was slightly bitter. 

“Your father was a great man, well loved in his town. When word got out about Argent and how you stopped him, people started traveling here to thank you. People who knew your father. Who knew you. Two of whom you might want to see when you’re up to it.” 

Stiles gave him a questioning look. 

“A healer by the name of Melissa McCall and her son, Scott.” 

“Melissa and Scott?” 

Mable buried her face in his neck and murmured in her sleep. Stiles ran his arm down her back to sooth her. 

“Scott was afraid, but Melissa was pretty firm that he had something important to tell you.” 

Stiles stared at the ceiling. He wasn’t sure how he felt about Scott. He missed him. They were best friends, brothers. But what he did… 

Love was a crazy thing; laying there with Mable, holding Derek’s hand, Stiles knew how love could make some of the most selfish things seem wise. Maybe it was time to talk to Scott. Maybe not even for Scott. Maybe Stiles needed to say the things he had kept bottled up inside for so long, just to cleanse himself of the weight of Scott’s betrayal. Maybe then he could start trusting people again. 

Derek yawned. Stiles looked over at him and really looked. “You’re tired.” 

“We didn’t know when you would wake up. I wanted to be here when you did.” 

Stiles decided he would talk to Scott. He had been lonely for so long and this... This could be worth opening himself up to being hurt again. He tugged on Derek’s hand. “Lay down.” 

Derek looked unsure. 

“This bed is huge,” Stiles said tugging on Derek’s hand again. 

Derek carefully slipped into bed and wrapped his arms around Stiles and his daughter. “Is this okay?” 

“Yea,” Stiles whispered thinking about what his life could be if he let go of his fear and let himself trust Derek and his family. “Yea.” 

“Good because I don’t think I can let you go.” 

From her place at Stiles neck, Mable smiled. 


	8. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles moves on with his life, happy and settled for the first time in a long time. But he has one more person from his past that he needs to face before he can find peace.
> 
> ____________________________________
> 
> Or, what happens when Stiles finally comes face to face with Scott.

Stiles wiped down the glossy wooden counter and surveyed his little shop. True to his word, Derek had helped him set up a tiny store selling potions and teas. He had finished decanting his last potion an hour ago and was just cleaning up in preparation for tomorrow’s opening. 

The bell on his front door rang out and Stiles looked up. A vaguely familiar woman wearing a sturdy leather hunting jacket walked in and looked around the store. She seemed unarmed but Stiles easily spotted the slight tells of hidden blades. 

“Can I help you?” He asked. 

The woman turned to him, her blue eyes searching his. “I’m sorry!” She exclaimed. “I didn’t know how to approach you but I wanted to talk to you and let you know how sorry I am.” Her lovely blue eyes filled with tears. “I finally got the full story of what my grandfather did and I just wanted to die! I didn’t…” 

“Allison Argent?” Stiles exclaimed taking a step back. 

“Please, I just needed to apologize. My father told me what Aunt Kate and my grandfather did and I am sick with guilt. If there is anything I can do,” she said earnestly. “I can’t…. I mean, there’s nothing I can do to make up for…” 

Stiles stepped forward and put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay, it wasn’t you.” 

“But it was!” Allison cried. “I heard rumors that this all started because of me and I had no idea…” 

“It wasn’t your fault,” Stiles assured her, distressed at her distress. “Scott made his own decision.” 

“But it was because of me…” 

“There are better ways of making someone’s acquaintance then to resort to betrayal and murder,” Stiles said with a wry grimace. It still hurt to talk about. In the weeks since his recovery, he had delayed in meeting with Scott and Melissa. He wanted to see them; he missed them so much. But he still felt ill at the thought of facing the man who had killed his father. He forced himself to smile. “But again, none of that is on you.” 

“I didn’t know. My father and I didn’t associate too closely with them after my mother died. I never understood why until recently. I’ve been so blind and stupid all my life! I looked up to him! And then I found out that he was a monster! And Kate…” 

Stiles took Allison by the arm and sat her down at the small table he had in the corner of the store. He quickly brewed her some tea and hunted around for any of the leftover cookies from Mable’s visit at lunch. He carried the small bag of cookies and the two cups of tea over to the table. 

“…can never make up for all the damage he’s done. My father and I…” 

“Hey,” Stiles said, offering her the tea. “Derek tells me you and your dad have been doing some pretty great things. You shouldn’t keep beating yourself up over things your grandfather and aunt did.” 

“But we owe it to you and everyone they’ve wronged to make things right. As much as I can, anyways. We’ve reaffirmed our oath, ‘Protect those who can not protect themselves’ and have made all the Hunters under our affiliation take the same oath. We’ve been weeding out the bad ones but I think we’re finally making a difference.” 

“That’s great!” Stiles said encouragingly. He paused for a minute, eager to change the subject, “I remember when Scott and I used to watch you during archery tournaments. You always cleaned house on the field. I’m sure you’re just as awesome off the field.” 

Allison looked surprised. “You watched me?” 

“Yea, Scott and I went to all your tournaments since your first one when we were 7! You were the highlight of the festivals for us!” 

Allison’s mouth slowly closed as a thoughtful look crossed her face. “Why didn’t you ever talk to me?” She asked slowly. 

Stiles looked at the small frown on her face and felt a tinge of regret. “You were… you and we we’re just…” 

The bell over the door rang out and Derek walked in. He froze, seeing Allison and Stiles sitting around the table. 

Allison instantly stood up and bowed. “Your Highness.” 

“Ms. Argent,” Derek’s eyes flickered from Allison’s pale face to Stiles. 

Stiles quickly stood. “Enough of that!” He said trying to dispel the tension in the air. “Allison and I were just catching up. She and I…” 

“I came to apologize,” Allison interrupted. “I want to apologize to you as well. What my family’s done to yours is unforgivable. I can’t even begin to repair the damage…” 

“You can’t,” Derek said flatly. His eyes slid to Stiles who was looking at him with a particularly hurt expression. Stiles probably forgave her as soon as she walked in the door but Derek still raged against the injustice done to Stiles and his father. Stiles suffered from terrible nightmares whenever his eyes closed and during the day he would still flinch at loud noises or people touching him. It was easy to hate someone whose family was responsible for his mate’s pain. 

Stiles put a hand on Derek’s shoulder and Derek instantly calmed. “Allison and her father are working hard to fix what Gerard broke,” he soothed. “It’s not right to hold a grudge when someone’s doing so much to redeem themselves.” 

Allison open look of pain made Stiles want to give her a hug, but he held himself back. He was more concerned with Derek’s fierce look of annoyance. 

“Do you really believe that?” Allison asked in a small voice. 

Stiles nodded with a smile. “I don’t say things I don’t mean.” 

Allison hesitated for a minute. “He hates himself for what he did,” she blurted out. From the way Stiles and Derek froze, she knew they understood who she was referring to. “I don’t know the full story, but he tried to avenge your father. He was an idiot about it, of course, and my grandfather caught him. Instead of killing him he…” Allison’s eyes flickered to Derek before returning to Stiles. “My grandfather somehow had gotten ahold of an Alpha werewolf and forced the bite on him. When my father and I found him, he had been experimented and tortured for years. He’s mostly feral now. My dad and I pay for his keep…” 

Stiles felt the ground fall out from underneath him as his mind struggled to make sense of her words. “Scott is a werewolf?” He asked slowly. 

Allison nodded. “After we found him, no pack would take him in. Not after what he had done, what my grandfather made him do.” 

Stiles’s hand on Derek’s shoulder slipped off as he stepped forward. “Where is he?” 

Allison looked from Stiles to Derek. 

“Take me to him,” Stiles said in a resolute voice. 

Allison nodded and turned to the door. 

“You don’t have to do this,” Derek said quickly. 

“He’s a wolf without an Alpha,” Stiles said shaking his head. “At best that would make him an omega. He must be out of his mind to be cut off from pack like that.” 

_He deserves worse for what he’s done._ Derek thought. 

The light hit Stiles’s amber eyes making them glow as he regarded Derek. “No one deserves that,” he said as though hearing Derek’s thoughts. “No one.” 

Derek was suddenly filled with awe at Stiles’s goodness. He swore to himself that he would do everything in his power to preserve it and keep safe the heart behind in. He nodded tightly and followed Stiles out of the shop. 

  
  


Allison led Derek and Stiles down a few quiet streets to a small house on the edge of town. The house was made of stone and had several double thick glass windows that were closed despite the heat of the day. Allison looked nervously at Stiles and Derek before knocking softly on the door. 

The door swung open to reveal an aged Melissa McCall. Her hair was grey and her pale face was marred by three fierce scars on her cheek. Exhaustion hung over her shoulders but her eyes were still kind as they looked past Allison and rested on Stiles. “Stiles?” She whispered. 

Stiles stepped around Allison and enveloped Melissa in a tight hug. Derek’s head cocked when he heard the jangle of heavy metal chains and smelled the scent of an unfamiliar wolf. 

Stiles must have heard something because he looked over Melissa’s shoulder and froze. 

In a dark corner, wearing faded clothes that had been shredded by his half formed claws was Scott McCall, shackled by his hands, feet, and neck to the thick stone wall. He cowered in the corner, whimpering and growling. His hair was a mess and his face was partially transformed. 

Whatever anger Stiles held for Scott melted away at the sight of his old friend in such pain. Stiles eased Melissa to the side and slowly approached Scott. Scott’s bright blue eyes flashed as he folded in on himself, shaking with fear. 

“Scott,” Stiles said soothingly staying several feet away from the terrified wolf. “Scotty, it’s Stiles. Do you remember me?” 

Scott whined deep in his throat and started clawing his chests. 

“Stop,” Stiles said sharply. “Stop hurting yourself.” 

Scott continued to whine and claw until blood started dripping onto the stained floor. 

Derek quickly stepped forward and crouched in front of Scott. He flashed his red eyes and Scott’s entire body locked up. Scott whined as his eyes filled with tears. As much as Derek wanted to hate Scott, he could smell the remorse and terror on the poor broken wolf. He had once seen the same haunted look on the faces of prisoners he had released after defeating a particularly vile pack. He reached out and touched his finger to the small patch of skin on Scott’s neck above his collar. At his touch, the beta’s shaking eased and he slowly tilted his neck in quiet submission. Derek ran his palm against Scott’s furry cheek. Slowly, Scott’s wolf receded and the boy’s haggard features appeared. “Alpha,” Scott whimpered. 

Derek continued petting Scott carefully, knowing the beta was probably touch starved. Scott practically went limp as he leaned into Derek’s touch. Scott looked at Stiles. “I’m sorry,” he croaked, his voice rusty from misuse. He moved to get closer to Stiles when his chains clanked. Derek took hold of the collar around his neck and unshackled him. When he drew the collar back, he was horrified at the deep scarring on Scott’s neck. Allison’s words about Scott’s treatment echoed in his mind and he lightly traced the rough skin, scenting him. 

Stiles stepped forward and gently unshackled Scott’s wrists. Scott allowed Stiles to pull him into his arms. Derek ran a calming hand down Scott’s back. “I’m still hate you a little,” Stiles whispered to Scott. Scott whimpered. “But I’ve missed you.” 

“I’m sorry,” Scott sobbed. “I’m so sorry.” 

“I know.” 


End file.
